Blackbird
by deadwoodpecker
Summary: Ginny's in danger, and Britain's most infamous (and infamously infuriating) Auror is on the case. (This is not mine, but is the fic HGFan1111 wrote last month during a renewed fervor of writing).


Blackbird

Disclaimer: Hello everyone! This fic was written as a gift to Ella. I have given her permission to share it with whomever she likes. I enjoyed writing fiction again, but it's very, very far from perfect, and very raw. It's not anything more than dipping my toe back in, and having some fun with Ella. I hope you enjoy, if you read it. And I hope everyone is healthy and happy. Andi

CHAPTER 1

Neville paced back and forth in the entryway to the flat he shared with Harry Potter. His mind was spinning, teetering on one idea before leaping to the next and perching there, contemplating, measuring, examining. It exhausted him, really. But there was nothing for it. This was the way his mind worked now, and he could no more stop it than he could the impulse to chew on the side of his thumbnail. It was habit, ingrained in him over the past few years of working so closely with Harry.

His mind, once slow and methodical, now measured everything in minute detail, running at speeds that anyone who had ever known him in school would find unbelievable.

"He'll be furious," he mumbled and licked at the spot of blood that now bloomed along the side of his thumb where he'd been nibbling. "Then again…"

It was six full steps across the faded black and white patterned tile, and Neville had walked them dozens of times, or possibly hundreds. Every time he approached the door, his right hand would lift, as if he were going to open the handle and plunge himself out into the cool London air, finally at peace with his decision. His fingers curl toward the worn golden doorknob, as if to caress it into opening, but the second before they closed around the metal he would pull back, another thought careening into his mind. And the pacing would begin anew.

But, eventually, a decision would need to be made. Neville couldn't hover too long, or bad things would happen. Very bad things.

The message from Ginny, just a few hours old, made his heart pound in his chest and his palms feel cold and clammy. Ginny was one of the most level-headed people that Neville knew. She wasn't given to fits of hysteria or prone to exaggerate a situation to gain attention or sympathy. He'd known her for so long that when her owl arrived, Neville had not questioned the truthfulness of any word she had written.

"But how to tell Harry," he bit out. "He doesn't know her. He'll think she's just…"

But he shook the thought away. Honestly, three years as Harry's partner had not allowed Neville to ever predict correctly what Harry thought at any given time. His mind didn't work the way others' did, it twisted and turned down dark alleys of thought, picking up clues here and there, discarding what he deemed irrelevant, and finally arriving just where he thought he would always end up in the first place. The process baffled Neville, and many of the other Aurors who worked closely with the pair, but Harry had never given Neville a moment to doubt his sincere desire to help people, despite his lack of emotional connection, at times.

It was Ginny's plea, heartfelt, and honestly full of fear, that made Neville's decision for him.

"Nothing for it, then," he said as his hand closed around the doorknob at last. "He'll have to understand." Brown and gold leaves danced and swirled at his feet as he pulled the door open and stepped out onto the covered stoop. "I'll just be in charge."

He added the last bit to himself, as a sort of confidence booster, even though he knew it would never be true. With a deep breath, Neville shrugged the top button of his overcoat closer, pulling it tight against the chill of the October wind, and began walking down the street, his strides filled with purpose.

While Harry hated Auror briefings, he knew, in the back of his mind, that they were necessary. The Ministry couldn't have a dozen Aurors jetting off all over the country with no rhyme or reason to their actions, and no coordinated efforts. But so much time was wasted on the trivial. Moody's thought processes were laborious and too ploddingly methodical to be of much use to Harry's way of thinking. The double and triple check for accuracy required by the Ministry hampered the entire crime-fighting business and made it too...slow, in Harry's opinion.

Often, Harry used the briefings for his own amusement. He would watch the other people in the room and speculate about them. He didn't waste his time with musing about their love lives, or any such drama, but spent his time on more interesting things, such as their thought processes, characters, and possible motivations for how they reacted to certain stimuli. And Harry wasn't above manipulating the environment to control that stimuli, at times, either. Neville called him devious, and at times demented. But, more often than not during the meetings, Harry was simply bored.

This was the case today. He was bored and annoyed, a dangerous condition, especially before the meeting had even begun. There had been little to no progress for six weeks on the current Death Eater situation and it was beginning to drive Harry crazy.

The death of Voldemort had not brought about an end to the war in the Wizarding World, as everyone hoped it might. Instead, it had left a sort of power vacuum among Voldemort's most loyal followers and they'd simply splintered off into new groups, all vying for title, honor, and power.

The war had gone underground, a simmering, pulsing mass of violence just waiting to erupt in one direction or another at any time. And Harry was right in the middle of it. As one of the higher ranking Aurors, he was usually front and center for any decisive action the Ministry took against Death Eater action. And, as godson and friend of two undercover, deeply embedded intelligence agents, Harry was party to the dark and nasty underbelly of all that went on. It was at both times infuriating that he could not do more to help Sirius and Remus, and relieving that he was bound by Ministry decrees, rules, and regulations.

Not that he was above breaking them…

He was the last Auror into the room, but he didn't join Neville at their usual spot. He'd wanted a view of the entire room today, an uninterrupted view of every face in the room. Neville caught his eye and tipped his head toward Harry's empty seat, but Harry just blinked at him. After one more attempt to try and get Harry to join him, Neville just sighed and gave up. Harry was in no mood to be cooperative today.

There was a low murmur in the room, Aurors greeting each other and exchanging case notes back and forth in whispers and undertones as Moody shuffled papers back and forth on his overburdened desk. Harry caught snippets of conversations here and there, skimming over them all and storing away little tidbits that he could mull over later. Nothing stuck out in his mind as truly interesting, so he contented himself with simply observing. Moody glared at him for a brief moment as he perched himself along the side wall, leaning a shoulder and hip against it, crossing his arms over his unbuttoned Auror robes. Moody's magical eye gave him the once-over, spinning slightly, and Harry just smirked at him, willing the old Auror to find something to comment on.

"Let's get this started," Moody finally barked as his eye snapped to the front once more. The Aurors settled in their seats and some even took out notebooks, dipping quills into inkwells, preparing to take notes.

Harry let his eyes rove over the assembly and his mind wandered just as freely as Moody snapped quickly through a half-hearted roll call. When Harry's name was called, it was Neville who answered "present". Harry had never responded to the silly tradition, and he never would. It was infantile, at best, and he'd never understood the insistence upon it. Neville had tried to explain once, but Harry had stopped listening.

Moody turned the time over to Shacklebolt, who began taking reports from Auror teams about progress on assignments. Neville caught Harry's eye and his eyebrow raised slowly, silently questioning his partner. Harry pursed his lips rather than let a smile slide onto his face. Their time together had built a sort of non-verbal language between the two, and it was becoming more and more rare that Neville couldn't figure out what Harry was up to.

Not today, though. Harry cleared his mind to control his emotions and looked away from Neville. His partner huffed and shook his head, reaching up to tug lightly at his robes, loosening the collar and unbuttoning the top two buttons. Harry's eyes slid around the room and noticed more than one person doing the same, fidgeting in their seats, removing cloaks, and tugging sleeves up past their elbows. The room was becoming increasingly warm, Harry noted, with some amusement.

When their partnership was due to report, Neville did the talking-as usual.

"Anything _you_ need to report, Potter?" Moody growled.

Harry stopped in his calculated observation and his eyes snapped to the front. "Not at all."

"Letting your partner do all the work again, eh, Potter?"

Harry didn't have to look to know it was Sloper making the snide comment. The nasal voice gave it away, had the words themselves not done it.

"That's the way I prefer it," Harry said quickly. A few in the room chuckled awkwardly, and the briefing continued.

The temperature in the room began to climb enough that even Moody was grumbling and beginning to remove layers. Harry glanced again at Neville and found his partner peering closely at him, his eyes curious as his mind whirled. It only took a second for the light to come on behind them as an idea bloomed in his mind.

"Really?" he mouthed and rolled his eyes, as if Harry were only being childish. And perhaps he was, but he was also dully bored.

Harry gave a little shrug, as if he were helpless in the situation and flashed his hands, turning them back and forth, showing that he was not even holding his wand.

"Blast it!" Moody said. "Andrews, get down to Magical Maintenance and tell them there's a problem with the heating charm on this room!" He wiped at his forehead with the back of his hand and glared as the female Auror bolted from her seat and dove toward the door, scurrying out into the hallway.

WIth the tension broken, the other Aurors began to adjust their clothing, relieved that they were not the only ones sweating and uncomfortable, yet unwilling to be the first to mention anything. The break in the meeting was needed and Moody called for a ten minute recess until the charm could be adjusted.

Harry leaned fully back onto the wall, glancing up toward the ceiling and waiting for Neville to approach.

"Perhaps you can make it snow next."

"Perhaps."

There was amusement, but just a hint of annoyance in Neville's tone, and Harry smiled, despite his desire to remain aloof.

Neville began to make small talk, discussing the movements of one of their informants. But since Harry deemed none of the information pertinent to his state of mind just then, he really didn't pay much attention. Instead, he used the few minutes to catalogue what felt off about Neville today, because something was just not right.

His robes were not pressed-not shocking-but there was a smudge of dirt just along the bottom cuff, as if he had been walking somewhere other than the city streets recently. There was also a faint line of moisture stain on his shoes, dried dew from the looks of it. And Neville was distracted, reciting the information about their case mechanically, even while his eyes glossed over and the corner of his mouth twitched. Harry glanced down at his partner's fingers, seeing the stain of dried blood along his right thumbnail.

Just as he opened his mouth to demand that Neville confide in him, Moody entered the room, followed by a frantic and harried little man, wearing the dull blue robes assigned to Magical Maintenance. One other man entered and drew all of Harry's attention, despite Neville's continued prattling.

He was not tall, but not short. His robes were pressed, but worn enough for Harry to know he was a Lifer at the Ministry. The top of his head was shiny bald, but there were graying bits of ginger hair in a semi-circle around the lower part. His eyes were folded in distinguished wrinkles behind thin wire-rimmed glasses.

Harry knew who he was-Arthur Weasley, Under Secretary of the Ministry-but didn't fully understand why he would be attending the Auror briefing, let alone arriving late.

"Harry," Neville sighed. "Have you heard a word-"

"Get back to your seats," Moody growled. He leaned forward, giving an imposing look at the Aurors under his command and waiting only a half-moment before diving back in once more.

Neville sighed and slouched back to his seat. Harry's focus remained fixed on Secretary Weasley, who did not take a seat, but, like Harry, leaned against a wall. Their eyes met and Harry was surprised to see some sort of measurement take place, as if the man were sizing him up and attempting to come to some sort of conclusion.

Harry's dealings with the leadership of the Ministry had been few and far between. He'd been brought onto the Auror Department immediately after vanquishing Voldemort at age twenty-two. Moody had vouched for him and that was enough to placate anyone who might have been tempted to question Harry's lack of experience or formal education. And Harry knew he was given much more leeway and excuse than anyone else who worked at the Ministry. It occurred to him once to be annoyed by the fact, but then he'd dismissed it just as quickly. So what if they treated him differently. He _was_ different.

For the remainder of the briefing, Harry remained fixed on sussing out any reason that the Ministry leadership would be in attendance. He heard no other reports, and didn't much care. Neville would fill him in, if needed. The little man who had been working on fixing the heating charm in the room looked rather flummoxed, and Harry relented, releasing his magical stranglehold on the room. The temperature began to regulate and the maintenance man finally breathed out a sigh of relief before ducking out the door as fast as his short legs could carry him.

"One final thing," Kingsley said, taking back over as Moody stumped his way to his chair and flopped heavily, his club-like leg stretching out before him. "There's going to be a bit of a reassignment of partners for a bit."

The ideas swirling and coalescing in Harry's mind abruptly halted, dissipating into nothing as he tuned back in.

"We've been tasked with an assignment from the Ministry that will require some of you to shift partnerships."

Harry looked at Neville, who was turning a pale shade of pink. His eyes were fixed steadfastly ahead and he held his breath slightly.

"Sloper and Jameson will be reassigned for the time being. Jameson, join with Andrews and Kirkwood on their current assignment."

Harry ignored the mild grumbling and narrowed his eyes in Neville's direction.

"Sloper, you'll be paired with Longbottom."

Before Jack could move, Harry shot forward, taking a step into the center of the room.

"Now, hang on just a second-"

Kinglsey, seemingly expecting Harry's interruption, held up a hand in his direction, as if his palm would be enough to silence Harry.

"Longbottom and Sloper have been requested for the special assignment," Kingsley said, his voice rising in volume.

But Harry was not to be deterred. "Longbottom and I are partners," he said through clenched teeth. "I'm senior, therefore I should have been notified. Who authorized this?"

"I did."

Both Secretary Weasley and Neville spoke at the same time. An aching silence descended in the room as Harry decided which one he would deal with: Neville's betrayal stung slightly, but there was some sort of undercurrent about Weasley's tone. Rather than answer, Harry only scowled.

"Some of you may know my daughter," Weasley said, his voice quiet but sure. "Ginny plays for the Holyhead Harpies." There was a hint of pride there as he paused. Harry had seen her play once, having gone to a game with Neville. There were mentions here and there in newspaper articles, and Neville's constant running catalogue of all things Ginny Weasley. But she and Harry had never met face to face.

"Twice in the past month she's escaped what we believe are Death Eater attacks. We are asking for the Aurors to help protect her, as well as step up their efforts in finding these..." He broke off, as if searching for the right word to describe them in his agitated parental state. "Death Eaters."

Harry took a deep breath. "She's under the protection of Holyhead security detail," he pointed out. He knew he sounded callous, but the idea that the Aurors would be used as a babysitting service did not sit well with him.

"That may well be," Weasley said, "but this is not just some idle threat, some school-boy crush intensified. These are Death Eaters."

"I know Death Eaters," Harry said. A barrage of memories flashed through his mind, but he brushed them aside. "And I'm fully aware-"

"Harry."

Neville's voice broke through as Harry and Weasley stared at each other. Harry finally looked at his partner.

"She's my friend."

There was an urgency there, a deep underlying need that annoyed Harry, but also explained so much. The story was deeper than a bungling security detail. Neville had been to Holyhead today, Harry decided. It had rained there just last night, accounting for the mud on his hems, and there would be dew on the grass of the pitch, explaining the shoes.

Harry opened his mouth to say more, but closed it with a snap. He narrowed his eyes at Neville and gave one quick, decisive nod. This wasn't over, but they would deal with it later.

Kingsley continued. "Potter, you'll be assigned with Tonks for the time being and given a new assignment on the Weasley case. I know you are particular about how you work-"

Harry snorted and crossed his arms over his chest, glancing at Tonks, who looked a mix between horrified at being assigned to him, and intrigued at the challenge.

"-but I'm sure you'll find Tonks a very capable partner."

The meeting closed while Harry was lost in his thoughts, a mish-mash of internal speculations and grumblings.

"You could have told me," he said to Neville when they were finally finished and the Aurors began to disperse.

"There wasn't time." Neville shuffled his feet and refused to meet Harry's eyes. Sloper and Tonks, their new partners, were talking together quietly, no doubt commiserating each other's bad fortune. "Ginny owled me only this morning, alerting me to the situation. I met with her father just before the briefing."

"Still," Harry groused. And that was the end of their argument. Harry'd had the final word. Anything further would be said in private, where Harry could lash out all he wanted and Neville could try to explain and defend. It wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't likely be the last.

CHAPTER 2

"Soooo, how is this going to work, exactly?" Ginny leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees, frustrated that she couldn't quite stop the shaking in her legs completely. She was perched on the edge of her sofa, looking up at the two Aurors standing imposingly in the middle of her flat.

Neville, she was comfortable with, although, she had to admit, the changes he'd gone through in the past few years intimidated her slightly. Gone was the slightly pudgy, unsure boy who had stumbled his way through Hogwarts. In his place was a man who had been through the fire and come out self-assured and quick-thinking.

She'd tried her best not to either laugh or complain when Jack Sloper had entered behind Neville. They'd not gotten along well enough at Hogwarts, since Jack was always flippantly spouting off about some nonsense or another, and never knew when to hold his tongue. Plus, Sloper was not at all who she'd expected when Neville owled to tell her that he'd been assigned to guard her. She'd rather expected Neville's partner, Harry Potter, and been looking forward to it in a sort of fangirl type of way. Neville had told her enough about him over the years that Ginny felt she already knew the man.

"Well," Neville sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, finally sinking down to sit on the sofa she had offered no less than four times.

"You could always pretend to be dating me," Jack said with a roguish sort of smile. Ginny bit her lip, rather than burst out into laughter.

"That'll be enough out of you," Neville said firmly, dismissing the Auror without even looking at him.

"It would make sense," Jack said. He wasn't going to take the brush-off well, it seemed. "Then we could be closer to you, and-"

Neville turned and glared at him. "Do you know why you're here, Sloper? It's not because anyone finds you charming or even capable. You're here to stay out of the way."

Jack scowled and Ginny bit her lip to hold in laughter. "I'm more than capable," he said. "You'll notice that they didn't put Potter on this job." He said it as if it were a complete justification of his own skill and expertise. "I'd be an asset if they'd put me where I can do more."

Neville just sighed and looked at Ginny with the air of a parent explaining something to a particularly dumb child. "Harry's out there because he's the best there is. He'll be the one to stop these attacks, and that's the best place for him. You're here to keep your eyes open and your mouth shut. You're here because you need to learn how to take orders. And because Moody knew if he paired you with Harry, you'd be dead in under an hour. Harry'd kill you himself. So, just do your job, and let Harry do his. He'll get it done."

Jack looked like he might respond, but his jaw snapped shut and he glared off into the flat. There was no arguing the point, even Ginny knew that. Potter's reputation was legendary, both because of his past deeds and with his skill as an Auror. The Daily Prophet was always hounding Potter for an interview, but he'd never given one. But Neville had let slip enough to Ginny over the years that she could admit a small celebrity crush was beginning to bloom, despite Neville's warnings that Harry was on the far side of difficult.

"I think the details will work themselves out," Neville said, his attention turning back to Ginny. "I don't think we need to invent some sort of ruse. It won't be a secret long that you're under Ministry protection. In fact, I'd be surprised if it lasts more than a day or two without someone taking notice."

Ginny chewed her lip and nodded woodenly. Normally, she wouldn't have allowed this type of babysitting to take place. She was a strong, independent woman. But the most recent kidnapping attempt had frightened her more than she liked to admit. When her father hesitatingly came to her with the idea of additional protection-an Auror detail!-Ginny had balked. But the more he talked, the more of Ginny's walls began to crumble. And when her brothers joined in on the convincing, Ginny knew any resistance was worthless. She'd written to Neville the next morning.

He pulled a silver pendant attached to a thin leather lanyard out of his pocket. "Here. Put this on."

Reaching across the space between them, Ginny looped the lanyard around her finger and lifted the item. "What is it?"

"A sort of alarm," Neville explained. "You should wear it always-tuck it into your shirt if you don't want it showing. If something happens, yank on it and it'll send a warning to the one I'm wearing." Neville tucked his thumb into the collar of his robes and lifted out a similar leather cord. "I have one, and I'll give Jack one."

Ginny nodded and slipped the loop over her head. She fingered the pendant, looking down at it. "I've never heard of this before. Did the Ministry-"

"No," Neville said. "Er, this is something Harry did. I don't even know the charm behind it, to be honest. But it works."

The weight of the pendant increased, Ginny thought, when she knew that. The riddle of Harry Potter just kept growing and growing in her mind. Perhaps she could ask Hermione about the pendant the next time she saw her.

"One of us will be here around the clock," said Neville, continuing. "And there are extra Auror patrols in the area, in addition to the Harpy's security." He gave her a tentative smile that made Ginny begin to feel as if the vice gripping her chest were beginning to be loosened. She wasn't alone, anymore.

"And, I've been assured that one or more of your brothers will be lurking."

"No doubt," Ginny said with a smirk.

Neville grinned and rubbed his palms on his thighs, wrinkling up his uniform robes slightly. "Harry's out there on the case." He gave a nod to the window, as if Potter were standing outside and would be enough to stop any Death Eater from approaching.

"You trust him that much?" she asked, half-jokingly.

"With my life," Neville said earnestly. "More importantly, with yours."

One week. That's how long Neville had been sleeping on Ginny's lumpy couch, taking turns with Sloper, even though he didn't trust the whiny little prick for anything. Jack knew his protocol, he was just lazy. He cut corners, and that drove Neville insane.

Seven days and nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He and Jack had accompanied Ginny to and from the pitch in Holyhead everyday for her practices. They generally let security do their jobs while she was flying, and Neville had even sneaked in a couple of naps in one of the top boxes, although he would never admit it to Sloper.

There had been some touchy spots, times when things had gotten awkward around Ginny's flat, but Neville was proud of himself for being so flexible. In fact, despite Jack's annoying presence, Neville was actually a bit glad for the vacation from Harry, if he were truly honest. Being with Harry was taxing, at times.

Ginny was a breath of fresh air. She was funny, despite the pressure of the situation, and Neville found that his mind didn't have to work nearly as fast to keep up his end of the conversation when they were together. Not that he thought Ginny slow, or thick, or anything. She was sharp witted and quick to piece together things. But Harry's mind just worked so differently, that being away from him was like a mini-holiday.

And his daily (sometimes twice a day) owls were enough to keep Neville abreast of the case outside the walls of the flat.

If he was slightly frustrated, Harry was bordering on being maniacal. He and Tonks butted heads constantly, mostly because she loved to hamper him by questioning everything he did and bringing up little idiosyncrasies that they could argue about. Neville would pay five galleons to be a fly on the wall for some of those arguments. He'd tried to bribe several other Aurors to record one for him, but all of them had just paled at the thought of getting near Harry when he was worked up and declined.

Neville grinned up at the ceiling just thinking about it. He shifted once more, rubbing his fingertips along his side, where a wonky sofa spring poked him from below, and tried to settle in once more. He needed to be up soon, and headed off with Ginny to the stadium for one of her games, but he desperately needed just a few extra minutes to relax and clear his mind. Sleep had fled about five in the morning, when Ginny's alarm had gone off and she began stirring. He'd listened to her shuffle about, cursing when she stubbed her toe on something in the darkness, and finally stumble to the shower. And he could hear her in there now, singing off-key to some song or another.

With a sigh, Neville forced himself to sit up and swing his legs off the side of the sofa, making sure to drag the blanket over his boxers to keep them covered. It was too hot in the flat to sleep in robes, he'd discovered on the second night, and he hadn't taken the time to apparate home to grab proper pyjamas. Besides, he was usually up and dressed before Ginny came out to the kitchen, anyway. No one was the wiser.

Once he was dressed, he magicked on the light in the kitchen, blinking at the harshness. He went through the now-mechanical motions of starting a pot of coffee for them both. He usually preferred tea, but Ginny needed a good strong cup of coffee every morning or she could barely function, or so she said.

"Morning," she said when she finally entered, her fingers flying as she plaited her hair over her shoulder. Neville just grunted and watched the motion, fascinated as her long tresses twisted and turned into a snake-like rope. It was hypnotic and slightly...sexy, he decided.

"That good, eh?" she said with a laugh.

"Sorry." Neville shook his head and felt his cheeks redden. It wasn't as if he was attracted to Ginny. Not in that way, at least. But she was a very nice looking woman, and he was a single man… Thoughts were bound to crop up when they were together day after day, hour after hour. And spending every night here… "I guess I'm still asleep." He was glad to note the leather alarm necklace in place, just under the edge of her uniform sweater. She'd been really good about wearing it.

Ginny mumbled something and then dove into the icebox, pulling out armfuls of food. Neville watched in amazement. "Don't you… I mean...it's a game day," he said stupidly. "You can really eat that much?"

She laughed and gave a little shrug. "I'm always ravenous on game days. Plus, I need my energy."

Neville found himself wondering where she put it all, but then forced his eyes away from her small waist and womanly curves. He really needed to get out, away from the flat today, he decided with a quick shake of his head.

"You don't remember that from Hogwarts?"

He scowled, trying to force his mind back to when they were housemates and she played on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. "Er, I think you were usually gone by the time I made it to the Great Hall."

"True," she said and broke a third egg into the frying pan. "You hungry?"

"Sure, if you can spare some," he said with a smirk.

"Arse," she grumbled, but her smile betrayed her.

They stayed in companionable silence for the time it took for Ginny to finish making their food. The silence was only broken when an owl pecked insistently on the kitchen window.

"There's Harry's owl," said Neville. He moved to open the sash and let the tawny owl inside, stepping back as it shook it's feathers. "Must be raining." He peered at the window, but didn't see more than light cloud cover. "Somewhere," he finished and removed Harry's letter.

"Morning, Jinx." Ginny greeted the owl with an outstretched palm, a piece of chopped bacon resting there. The owl nuzzled her hand affectionately and then pounced on the meat, gobbling it down.

"Don't ever let Harry know you did that," Neville warned. "He's neurotic about that owl."

"Oh, pssshh." Ginny raised an eyebrow and rubbed her free hand along the owl's feathers. "He's not so scary."

"That's because you've not met him face to face," mumbled Neville distractedly as he continued to read.

Ginny responded, but her words were lost as Neville tried to follow what Harry had written. He and Tonks had been following what they thought was a good lead, a tip from an undercover informant that had led them to what was supposed to be a Death Eater hideout. But the tip turned out to be based on old information and Harry was less than impressed when the hideout had been a bust. Neville had no doubt the informant had been thoroughly berated for the mistake. In the end, however, they had stumbled upon a small Wizarding pub where there were a few shady characters who had proved to have decent information. Harry and Tonks had been up for more than thirty-six hours staking out a new location and were hopeful about the results.

"Good news?"

Neville finally looked up and sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Yes and no."

Her hopeful expression fell slightly. "So, bad news."

"It's not that easy," Neville said. "Harry's not exactly…" He trailed off, unsure how to explain his partner to Ginny without betraying their friendship, or coming off jaded. "He doesn't communicate in the normal way," he finally settled on. "You have to read between the lines."

Ginny scowled and picked at her breakfast, alternately slipping more food to Jinx, who was preening under the attention. "I'm sorry, I guess I just don't understand."

"Harry's…" Neville trailed off and took a deep breath. "They have several leads, but it's been slow going. Harry thrives on the chase. He needs the adrenaline. Without it...well, he'll find a way to create his own adrenaline, which is its own set of problems, trust me. And his mind...it just doesn't ever shut down. It's always running, always churning over ideas."

Her brow furrowed and Neville knew that she just didn't get it. Most people didn't. Harry was his own sort of enigma.

"You'll understand when you meet him," said Neville. He rolled up the scroll and tucked it into his robes. "About finished? We need to meet up with Jack before heading to the game."

Ginny looked as if she might pursue the topic, but then decided not to continue. "Just need to grab my kit."

Neville rubbed at his forehead as he waited for Ginny. Harry's letter was encouraging, but there was the same undertone of irritation that never bode well. When Harry had a feeling, like he'd said in his letter, something was about to happen. Neville scribbled a quick reply, setting up a meeting for after the game, and sent it off with Jinx.

They met outside Ginny's flat, in a small coffee shop across the street that did a brisk business. Enough people were in and out that two men sitting in the back, darker corner were hardly noticed. Plus, Harry cast a few charms in the area to help conceal them and their conversation.

"Good game?" he asked when Neville sat down.

"Harpies won, of course," Neville said proudly. Harry could tell that he'd enjoyed himself at the game.

"Sounds like a rough job, sitting in the top box watching a game."

Rather than be annoyed, Neville just smiled. "There are worse."

"How did she do?"

"Top scorer of the game. The usual."

Harry thought about that. "Have her numbers gone higher since all this mess?"

Neville's forehead wrinkled in thought. "Well...now that you mention it, yes."

A dark thought nibbled at the back of Harry's brain. "Would she be the type to make all of this up? To send us off on a wild goose chase? Is this all about publicity, or narcissism?"

"Not at all!" Neville said quickly. "If you knew her, you could never ask that. The threat is real, I assure you. Ginny just performs well under pressure."

Harry let the thought roll around in his head, examining it before dismissing it completely. If Neville trusted her…

"Some might like that sort of thing, you know," he excused. "They thrive on attention, seeing their name in the papers and having people worry about them." Neville opened his mouth, as if he were going to defend her again, but Harry held up his hand to waive it off. "It hardly matters, anyway," he said. "The threat is real enough. Tonks and I have proven that."

"You've found something, then?" Neville leaned forward, forgetting his tea that sloshed a bit when he bumped against the table.

Harry glanced around the room, taking in the people coming and going, who did not notice them at all. "We found one hideout. Arrested four Death Eaters this morning." He sighed then, the weariness of so many hours awake catching up to him. What he needed was a few good hours of sleep, but that wasn't likely to come with a desk full of paperwork waiting for him at the Ministry. Tonks had said she would start on it so that Harry could meet Neville, but he knew she would be saving at least half of it for him.

"Do you think they're the ones?" Relief and hope mixed in Neville's expression.

"No, I don't," said Harry. "They were too young, too disorganized. We tore the place apart and didn't find any reference to Weasley at all."

Neville swore under his breath and glared down into his cup. "Then we keep going."

"Yes-" Just as Harry was about to continue, a burning sensation pressed against his chest and he tugged at the pendant he wore. Neville gasped and clutched his own, his eyes going wide.

They both turned toward Ginny's flat, peering at the second story window.

"Sloper's there?"

Neville stood abruptly, panic setting in as he fumbled for his wand. "Yes." Without another word, Harry disappeared.

He landed in the middle of chaos, and even as he moved, his eyes catalogued the scene. Ginny was down on the floor, screaming as Bellatrix Lestrange stood in front of her, cackling merrily. Her hand scrabbled for the wand just out of her reach while her other clutched at her leg, which appeared to Harry to be twisted in a strange angle. The alarm pendant that Harry had charmed for her lay broken on the floor next to her.

Sloper was collapsed next to the door, blasted there, it seemed, by Bellatrix. His head was bleeding and Harry hoped he was still alive.

"Bellatrix!" Harry boomed and dove at her, throwing his hand up to banish her away from Ginny. The Death Eater startled, but spun out of the way, only catching part of Harry's hex, which set her spinning. A flash of light zoomed toward Ginny, lying helpless on the floor, and Harry dove in front of it, taking the brunt and feeling every nerve ending in his body erupt in pain. He curled against it, even as he felt his weight fall and land on top of Ginny.

"You!" Bellatrix growled. She cast another Cruciatus on Harry and he cried out, his body lifting once more as he writhed in pain. But it ended abruptly and Harry slumped down once more, his head resting on Ginny's chest. Through his cockeyed glasses, he glimpsed the terrified, wide-eyed face of Ginny Weasley before he passed out completely.

CHAPTER 3

The room was filled with people and while a part of her was grateful for their presence, Ginny was teetering, slipping more toward giving into the hysteria that grew inside her like a bubble, inflating and pushing every clear-headed thought out. She hadn't even really had a moment to have a good cry over the entire situation before her family had stormed into her hospital room, their concern overwhelming in its own right.

Her head was filled with memories and emotions that needed to be sorted out. Terror from being attacked mixed with the exaltation of being saved, and guilt of seeing Harry Potter tortured, taking the curses meant for her. And then Neville…

Poor Neville.

She hadn't seen him since he'd attached a St. Mungo's portkey to her wrist, his face ashen and hard. His mouth had been drawn in a hard line, as if he didn't trust himself to open it to talk to her. Harry had been whisked away to the hospital first, then Ginny. She assumed that Jack would follow, as well.

Neville remained in her flat amidst the chaos of Aurors popping in and out, questions being hurled his way about what had happened. He'd stoically gone about his job, not saying more than absolutely necessary. But when he couldn't hold them any longer, his eyes would flit across Ginny's living room to the heap dressed all in black. The heap that moved no longer.

"Ginny, are you sure you're alright?"

Hermione's whispered words pierced into Ginny's thoughts and she blinked up at her sister-in-law.

"I'm fine," she answered mechanically. And she was, to a point. She looked down at her leg, wrapped up in bandages and suspended magically so that it wouldn't move. A memory of the spell that shattered the bone flashed in her mind and she winced.

But Hermione just shook her head. "Of course, you're not. Silly of me to ask, really. I just...I feel useless knowing there's nothing I can do."

The bubble inside Ginny grew just a tiny bit bigger and she blinked tears away from the back of her eyes and stared up at the ceiling rather than continue talking. She just wanted everyone to go away until she could sort things out and put the memories in place.

"...but we still don't know _why_ ," said George, shaking his head. "And until we know that-"

"Does it matter why?" Ron snapped. Ginny didn't have to look to know his face would be flushed, anger seeping out of every pore. He'd been the most vocal one upon arriving, shouting about shoddy Auror protection and security that hadn't done their damned jobs.

Ginny slipped a little further toward hysteria and a half-sob leaked out.

"Oh, Ginny-girl." Her mother clung to her hand, holding tighter and tighter until Ginny felt it was the only thing keeping her grounded. Without it, she might float away.

"Sorry, Gin," Ron mumbled.

"Perhaps you boys should go for a walk," her father said.

"Has anyone heard anything from the Aurors?" Bill asked from the far corner of the room.

"Aurors," Ron growled. "Lot of bloody use they were."

"Ronald!" Both Molly and Hermione scolded him at the same time.

"It's not their fault," her father defended in a soft voice. "They got to her as quickly as they could."

"Not fast enough," Ron continued. "Bloody Jack Sloper. I never liked him, anyway. And where was Neville? He should have been-"

"It was my fault."

They continued arguing, as if Ginny hadn't spoken. She stared up at the ceiling intently, focusing on seeing the words come out of her mouth as she said them again.

"Of course it wasn't!"

"Ginny, you can't blame yourself!"

Her family erupted in protests and anger, blaming anyone but her. But Ginny knew the truth of it.

"She's right."

The voice didn't fit into the image in her head and she winced as she lifted her head to see if it was who she thought it might be.

Harry Potter stood in the doorway, his Auror robes thrown haphazardly over a hospital gown, and his hair standing every which way.

"It _was_ her fault."

Pandemonium erupted as her family defended her, but Ginny couldn't tear her eyes away from the man who had saved her. She felt warm and giddy, but at the same time, horribly let down that he would blame her, no matter how much she felt that he was the only one being honest about it all.

Harry ignored the Weasleys and shuffled slowly toward the bed. Ginny could see that he was in pain, his hands shook and his movements were calculated, careful, but his face betrayed no emotion whatsoever. A chair that had been pushed up against the wall zoomed out and settled near her bed, about the level of her hip. Harry sat down slowly.

The air about him seemed to sizzle with energy. Ginny's whole body ached with the need to tell him 'thank you' and to call him a bastard for how cold he was being.

"She wasn't wearing her alarm."

He'd known.

Ginny looked away, avoiding the stares and questions of everyone in the room.

"If she'd been wearing it like she was supposed to," Harry continued in a soft voice, almost as if he were bored with the whole situation. But his eyes were flashing, full of anger and annoyance at her. And Ginny couldn't blame him. He'd been forced to suffer excruciating pain because she hadn't been fast enough to raise the alarm when Bellatrix Lestrange had broken through the wards in her flat. Harry didn't finish his sentence, but let the words hang in the air, a guilty trial and sentence at the same time.

"I'd forgotten to put it back on after the game," she said. A single tear escaped and dripped down onto her cheek. Ginny pulled her hand from her mother's and swiped angrily at it. "It was across the room, in my playing kit. I...it took me too long." Another tear fell and Ginny swallowed to control her emotions. Harry was obviously feeling no sympathy for her situation and being seen as nothing more than a weak, crying witch would not win her any points.

"You still can't blame yourself," George said awkwardly.

"Yeah, Gin. You were in your own home. The wards should have held."

Ginny, however, couldn't tear her eyes away from Harry's intense stare. They both ignored the discussion on the wards, and her brothers grilling Bill on the failure. Even though she felt weighed and measured, Ginny felt a small bit of respect for Harry Potter. She'd been forced in the past five minutes to take him off the pedestal she'd once had him on and see him for the human being that he truly was.

Plus, Neville had warned her that he was brash and even abusive, at times, with his words.

Where once was hero worship, even a bit of a celebrity crush, now was empty inside her, faced with a man she had no way of understanding. The weight of his past, as well as the role he now played in the Wizarding World, was incomprehensible. And for just a moment, something slipped in his eyes, letting her see how broken and alone he truly was.

But then it was gone, replaced with a cold, calculating...almost boredom. He looked away, turning his attention to the family discussion, which had returned to the question of why she was being targeted.

"I would have thought," said Harry, "that the reasoning was evident."

Silence settled heavily as they all turned to look at him.

"The diary!"

It was Hermione who burst out, and Harry glanced at her, but Ginny couldn't tell if he was agreeing with her or not. The idea shuddered through Ginny, but she had to admit that she'd contemplated it already, just after the second attack.

"The diary."

The corridors were quiet, as they should be at two in the morning, Neville supposed. It was a hospital, after all. And had he not flashed his Auror's badge and insisted that it was a matter of urgency, Neville knew there was no way he would have been allowed in.

But he needed to seem them. Both of them. He needed to make sure, with his own eyes, that Harry and Ginny were alive and going to be alright. Sloper had already been released, his injuries were minor and he would recuperate just fine at home.

Neville'd been too late apparating into the flat, and had arrived to see Harry take the second curse from Bellatrix's wand, and see Ginny's blood smeared across the hardwood floor in front of the sofa where he'd slept for seven nights.

At least he'd been able to stop Bellatrix from doing worse.

Nope. Not going there.

Neville shook his head and pushed those dark thoughts to the back of his mind. It wasn't like she didn't deserve it anyway. Bloody Bellatrix Bloody Lestrange.

Harry's room was first, but it was dark and empty.

"Should have known." He shuffled one door down and found his partner there, sitting next to Ginny, who was sleeping. Harry appeared to be awake-his eyes were open-but he didn't move or even blink when Neville entered. His chair was angled so that he could watch the doorway-classic Auror positioning-but he was just staring at Ginny.

"You get it all finished?"

Neville started when Harry's gruff voice sounded.

"Just," said Neville. He swallowed back a yawn and carefully pulled another chair forward, wincing when it scraped the floor. He looked up at Ginny, expecting her to wake, but she remained still.

"Dreamless Sleep potion," Harry said.

"Ah."

He settled into the seat and felt the weight of the day push him down, weighing heavily.

"Moody give you hell?"

"Not as much as you'd think."

Harry rubbed his fingers over his mouth and across the stubble on his chin. His hair was standing on end, as if he'd gotten straight out of bed and just found himself sitting here in this position. "Good."

"Why didn't they just heal her leg?" Neville asked.

"Allergic to the potion."

"Strange."

More silence.

"Why are you in here? You should be resting."

"Did you think that killing one Death Eater would keep the others away?"

Neville winced at Harry's bluntness. "Well...no. But I had hoped."

"They'll be back."

"Do you really think this is about the diary?"

"The only thing it can be. She's no threat to them and she has nothing to offer. Unless a shade of Voldemort could be found inside her. It's obviously worked before."

Harry turned and looked at him. Neville couldn't help but lift his eyes to the remnant scar on Harry's forehead, just under the thick black fringe there. A heaviness descended on the room, as if a thick London fog had rolled in, making it hard to breath, hard to see.

"She can't be a…"

"No," Harry said quickly. "She's not. And he's dead for good. But it's not like Voldemort was open with his followers about the horcruxes. They don't know that's why he wasn't gone the first time. And some of them are searching for any shred of hope. When they learned about the diary, I'm sure they thought there was some chance."

"She couldn't have been working alone."

"No."

Neville tried to think, but the fog in his mind was getting thicker and thicker.

"Go home, Neville. We'll still be here in the morning."

"And what do we do then?"

Harry was quiet, but Neville didn't know if that was because he didn't know, or because he thought Neville couldn't comprehend the answer. In truth, Neville wasn't sure he could follow much of anything right now.

"Go home."

"Alright."

CHAPTER 4

"Absolutely not."

Neville narrowed his eyes at Ron's stubbornness. Nothing would get accomplished at this meeting if everyone went into it with a closed mind. Harry shifted in his seat, favoring his right side, where his ribs had been broken during the attack two days before. Surprisingly, he didn't snap something pithy right back at the tall redhead. It was out of character and Neville filed it away to contemplate later, when he had more brain power to devote to it.

"Ron." Mr. Weasley's soft response cowed his son. "We need to remember that this is your sister's life. There is no price to pay, no sacrifice too great to protect her."

"Certainly feel free to talk around me, as if i'm not even in the room," Ginny grumbled. Her arms folded across her front and her still-healing leg stretched out in front of her, propped on one of her mother's homemade cushions.

They were at the Burrow, home of the Weasley family, or at least the elder Weasleys, as all of their children had now moved out. But Neville got the idea that all of them flowed in and out of this place frequently. The house seemed the same as it had when Neville had been here several years before for Ron and Hermione's wedding.

"Ginny, dear," Mrs. Weasley soothed, "we're just trying to do what's best for you."

"Don't you think I should be the judge of that?"

"Of course, but you have to remember that we're all worried. We're all more than a little on edge, also." Mrs. Weasley's words seemed to settle Ginny a little, but Neville could still see the color rise in her cheeks. There was a storm brewing there, Neville could tell. He'd witnessed his fair share of them over their Hogwarts years and knew the signs.

"I think," Kingsley said carefully, "that returning to protective custody is the best option. The Ministry would be only happy to provide a place, or if you'd like to return to your own flat, we can add more wards."

Ron grumbled again and went to lean against the far wall, near the darkest corner of the room.

"You mean, going into hiding," said Ginny.

Kingsley sighed and glanced at both Harry and Neville. "That's what we recommend."

"I just don't see how that would work," said George. "It didn't work last time."

Kingsley bristled. It was his Auror department that had failed and he seemed to be taking it as a personal insult that George would question it happening again. "You can't think that just because, one time-"

"We can add more wards," said Bill from across the room. "Better wards."

"And what happens with the Death Eaters use their own curse breaker, Bill?" Ron asked. "Hell, they probably used one _this_ time. There's no other explanation for how she got in."

But Neville wasn't so sure. He and Harry had already talked the subject to death and had reached no real conclusion. Well, _Neville_ had reached no conclusion. He was sure Harry had found about a dozen viable deductions, but he hadn't offered them.

"Again, the Ministry-"

"I have another solution."

Every eye in the room snapped to Harry, who had been completely silent this whole time. Neville honestly had no idea what his partner was going to say. Was there any real way to determine what was in his mind?

Harry looked right at Ginny, something Neville noticed he had done a lot over the last few days. It seemed he was always staring at her. If he didn't know better, Neville might say that Harry was smitten with her, but Harry didn't date. He didn't talk about women, not one single word in the three years they'd been partners. Neville had just assumed that Harry was rather...asexual.

"A Fidelius, with a Secret-Keeper. Complete isolation. It's the only way to ever be truly sure."

Surprisingly, Ginny didn't flinch, didn't argue, and didn't even look angry.

"Don't you think that's a bit extreme?" Mrs. Weasley asked as she pressed the back of her hand to her lips.

"No," said Harry, "I don't. I think your daughter's life is worth the extreme, in any case."

"And who…" Ginny swallowed and glanced at Neville, her eyes full of questions.

"Whomever you trust that much," Harry said.

It seemed as if they were having some sort of private conversation between them, and Neville wondered how much they had actually talked over the past few days in the hospital. He'd assumed not much at all, since Ginny was dosed with potion at night and surrounded by her family during the day. That didn't leave much time for life stories and deep secrets.

Ginny rubbed her fingertips across her forehead and looked down at the floor. "I need to think. This is all just so much."

"You have time," Kingsley said.

"No, you don't," interrupted Harry. "Every minute you're out here your life is in danger. They will stop at nothing. You've already seen the lengths they will go. Don't underestimate a single one of them. Bellatrix Lestrange may be gone, but there are others just as insane, just as determined to resurrect a master once more."

Neville swallowed past the lump in his throat that rose anytime someone mentioned Lestrange and her fate. He was struggling to get past what he'd done to her, and he wasn't sure if he ever would. But he was trying.

"He's right," said Neville, looking at Ginny pleadingly. "I can't...I don't want to lose another friend, Ginny. There were too many."

Ginny looked at him and he knew she understood: his parents, schoolmates, friends, teachers, mentors. All gone.

"Okay," she said shakily.

"You've gone mental," Ron muttered. "Absolutely nutters."

"Ronald!" Mrs. Weasley scolded her son, even as tears ran down her cheeks. "I cannot lose another child." They all winced. "If this is what must be done…"

"It is," Harry said confidently.

"Then...then it's the best we can do."

Neville watched a range of emotions cross GInny's face. She was so easy to read, so clear to him. He could see the process of her decisions flash in her expressions, almost see the wheels turning in her mind.

Mr. Weasley came to sit next to her, careful not to jostle her leg too much. "Ginny. Who?"

Neville watched determination flood through her, calmness settling. Her eyes raised and she looked directly at whom she had chosen. "You."

Harry swallowed past the lump in his throat and readjusted his grip on his wand. He didn't generally need it for charms, but this was no simple charm he was about to perform. He'd seen it done several times before, and had done it once himself, on this very house, in fact. But this was different.

Before, it had been his own existence inside the house that he'd been protecting, nothing more. Now...well, another living being was at stake. He had faith in his ability to actually master the charm, but it was what came after that sent a tremor through him. Not something he liked to admit, not even to himself.

The weight of being a Secret-Keeper was tremendous. And there was just so much uncertainty about this situation. How long would they be in hiding? Could they handle being in such close proximity day after day? Could the other Aurors break the case? Harry just didn't' know.

"Ready?"

Ginny gave a jerky nod as she steadied herself on the muggle crutches that Hermione had provided for her. Her leg was healing, just not as fast as it would have if she'd been able to take Skele-Gro. The crushing curse used to damage the bone was so destructive that the Healers at St. Mungo's had decided simply to remove the bones rather than try to knit them back together once more. Her bones would grow back, but it would take time. She was strangely fluid on the crutches, Harry noticed, as if she were flying, rather than clunking along.

"Ready."

Harry took a deep breath and began the complicated charm. Neville stood by, as did Mr. Weasley and Kingsley. They were not involved in the charm itself, but integral in the testing of it. Only Neville would be told the secret.

When he was done, a heavy and slightly burning weight settled in Harry's chest. He gave a single decisive nod to Ginny, who stood between him and the house, before turning on his heel and looking at the others.

"You're good, Harry." Neville said it to the air, as he peered toward the house. "It worked."

Harry thought about responding, but there was nothing more to say. He'd already said goodbye to his partner, already moved everything he might need into the house, and already resigned himself to stay for the duration.

He walked back toward Ginny, stopping by her side. She wasn't crying-he suspected she'd done that earlier this morning, before he'd arrived to take her away from the Burrow. Her face was clear, resolute, but also pale.

The secret now rested with him. Her survival. And he was still not sure why she'd chosen him. When he'd suggested the charm, he'd expected that Neville would be the one Ginny would gravitate toward. Or one of her family.

And then the moment when she'd looked at him, bright brown eyes free from fear, he'd known that she'd chosen him. Merlin knew why. Just the thought of it made him feel...something he didn't have a name for.

"What now?" she said as she looked over at him.

"Now," he said slowly, "we keep you alive. We put our faith in them to end this once and for all."

"And we wait." She turned on her good heel and looked up at the house, her eyes seeming to measure the line of the roof, the dormers and windows, down to the front door. It wasn't much of a house-small, but it was enough for Harry's needs. He didn't come here often. In fact, he hadn't been in almost six months. But it was unplottable, tucked away on a country lane disguised by tall trees that shaded the garden in the back, fading into thicker trees, and far from any nosy neighbors. They'd be safe here.

Day three.

She'd only been locked up in this house for three days, and it was already miserable. But she wouldn't let Harry know that. He'd been so damned...stoic, about this all.

"Maybe he's used to being shut up in some house," she grumbled as she tossed her pillows onto the bed and yanked the covers up to a semi-made state.

Their first day in the house was horribly awkward until they'd both disappeared into their respective bedrooms on opposite sides. There hadn't been more than a handful of words between them, and it was driving Ginny barmy.

Surely, Harry wouldn't have agreed to this if he hated her, or even found her unpleasant to be around. He'd been quiet, but agreeable enough at the hospital, when he didn't really leave her side. But now...he was downright taciturn, even secretive.

Day two had been spent in her room again, catching up on sleep she'd missed over the season. Ginny winced thinking of how she was letting her teammates down, and prayed that they would one day understand her decision. As long as she was ever allowed to leave, that is.

What if she was stuck here forever? With Harry Potter, who had said four whole sentences to her: "This is your room", "The loo is shared", "I don't eat dinner", and "Goodnight."

What a ponce.

It was the quiet doing Ginny in, she decided. The Burrow was never quiet-even now, there was some noise somewhere. Her own flat had been a hive of activity with friends, family, and teammates popping in and out.

This house was a grave.

Ginny took in a deep breath and then let it out again, vowing that she was going to change things around here. "He may not eat dinner," she said to herself, "but he's got to eat breakfast." Her mother had always told her that the way to a man's heart was through his stomach. She may not be interested in Harry Potter's heart, but she was determined to earn his respect.

After fumbling around in the kitchen-the crutches would have to go soon, she decided, sincer her leg was well on its way to healing-Ginny found the fixings for a good, hearty meal. She was not quiet as she worked, banging pots and pans, slamming drawers, and even singing. There was no sense pretending to be someone she wasn't. And Ginny Weasley was no shy, wilting flower. She was loud and fun, and not easily pushed around by the likes of Harry Potter. He would just have to learn to accept her as she was.

Eventually, Harry peered into the kitchen, looking mostly awake and possibly summoned by the black pot of coffee Ginny had brewed. Or the scent of the cinnamon scones. Whatever it was that had broken him out of his cave, Ginny was thrilled.

"I wasn't sure what you like," she said, "so I made a bit of everything."

Harry, clutching the Daily Prophet, sat at the overloaded table, his eyes going big at the spread. "I normally just have toast."

Ginny's smile melted away. 'Of course,' she said to herself.

"But this looks…" Harry trailed off and he reached for a rasher of bacon.

A relieved sigh bubbled up and Ginny shifted the crutches to one side and hobbled to the table to sit opposite him. They dished up in silence and Harry lifted the newspaper to read as he ate.

A victory, small as it may be. But Ginny knew that she couldn't make a feast every meal just to get him to say two more sentences to her. She'd be huge! And they'd have to have supplies brought to them every other day. There had to be another way.

"Anything good in there?"

Harry didn't answer and Ginny wondered if he'd even heard her at all. She was just about to get up and leave him to the washing up, when he finally cleared his throat and closed the paper.

"Not really," he said. "Same drivel."

"And nothing from…"

His eyes snapped to hers. "I would have told you. It's been three days. Are you already ready to leave?"

She wanted to be honest and answer with a firm 'yes', but instead she just shook her head. "No, its just…" She decided that a bit of honesty might work, just with a little more tact. "It's so quiet here. I'm not used to it. I grew up in a house with six older brothers and a mother who...well, you've met my mother. And then I'm around a loud quidditch team all day, every day. And you don't even have a wireless."

Harry looked shocked, as if the silence had never occurred to him. And maybe it hadn't. "I may have one...somewhere."

It was at least an effort.

"I'm not trying to be difficult, I promise. What you've done for me… The rescue, and now...this."

Harry shifted and stood, clearly uncomfortable with where the conversation had gone. "Yes, well. I'll look today to see if I can find a wireless for you. Thank you for the, er…" He gestured toward the table and then turned to leave the room, leaving the thought hanging.

Day five.

Harry fiddled with the wireless, twisting dials this way and that to try and pick up a better signal. He'd found it in the attic, in an old box of things that Remus had once given him. The fact that it still worked, once he'd tinkered with it enough, was a miracle.

Two channels of music came in, and Harry was glad he'd kept the volume low. He was hunched over the end of his bed, the wireless resting on the mattress before him. It wasn't the ideal place to work, but the idea of doing this in the kitchen, or really anywhere that Ginny was, made Harry uncomfortable.

He knew he was being a prat. It had occurred to him that he was likely making this whole thing unbearable for Ginny, but he wasn't sure what to do about it all.

Ginny loved to talk. Anytime he was out of his bedroom, she talked to him incessantly, about any subject that might cross her mind. And while he didn't listen to most of it, occasionally bits and pieces would come through. Logically, he knew this was her way of coping with the stress of the situation. A Death Eater attack, the injuries she'd suffered, the horrifying things she'd witnessed, and then being shut away while others handled the problem. Any of those things were enough to make even the strongest mind crack, he supposed. But he was not qualified to deal with any of them. He was no therapist, or mind healer.

And he had absolutely no idea what to do with the emotions that she dredged up in him, confusing and consuming. She wanted to thank him, and she kept bringing up why he'd rescued her, why he'd agreed to be her Secret-Keeper. It was all just...too much.

He'd meant to give her the wireless today. After fiddling with it all day-taking it apart and cleaning every part by hand, and then putting it all back together again-he'd thought she might be thankful, appreciative, even. And then his mind had pictured the moment. Would she be overly appreciative? Would she go on and on about how he'd done something nice for her? What if she...touched him? Rested her hand on his arm, or, Merlin forbid, tried to _hug_ him. The thought had kept him safely tucked away in his room, away from all manner of physical interaction and affection. But that didn't stop his mind from picturing every possible scenario their interaction might bring.

He felt like an off-kilter school boy, scared that the girl he liked might not like him back, and even more terrified that she might. But a crush? He was twenty-five years old, after all. And Harry wasn't sure that's what this was, at all. It didn't feel that way, and yet...he had no experience whatsoever with which to judge it all. He'd never felt this way about anyone else. Ever.

When it was finally dark, Harry opened his bedroom door silently. The wireless was tucked under his arm. He listened at the door, but the house was still. It was nearly midnight, he realized with a start. Ginny was likely in bed, sound asleep.

He'd just leave the wireless on the kitchen table, where she'd find it in the morning. Then she'd have it, but he wouldn't have to deal with being the one to put it in her hands. A simple solution.

And it left him feeling...rather hollow inside.

Just as he placed the item on the table, he heard a sound, a sort of cry or whimper. Instinct erupted and he dove down the hallway to Ginny's door, pressing his ear to the wood there. Was it she who had cried out?

Inside, he could hear nothing. No cry, no call for help. He waited there, holding his breath. But just as he was about to pull away, mentally berating himself for being so silly, he heard it again.

It was Ginny, locked in some sort of nightmare. He could hear her thrash in the bed, crying out for whatever terror to release her.

Harry was torn. Should he open the door, break it down if needed, to save her? Or did he let her mind work through the horror on its own?

But he couldn't handle hearing her cry out. His mind made up, he reached for the doorknob, only to pull back once more. Perhaps he should knock. He had no idea what state of dress Ginny slept in. The image sent his mind reeling and he raised a hesitant hand to rap his knuckles on the wood.

Before he could, however, Ginny gasped and he heard the creak of bedsprings, as if she'd woken suddenly and sat up. And then a sob, a soul-shattering anguish as Ginny began to cry.

Harry backed away from the door, knowing that he could do nothing now. Why had he imagined himself the hero again, anyway? There was no need for gallant heroics, and Ginny was no damsel in distress.

He went to his own bedroom and tried to sleep, instead.

CHAPTER 5

Day Seven

Ginny flicked her wand, turning the wireless off. She stared into the dull light of her bedroom, the announcer's voice echoing in her head still. Familiar scenes from her memory-flying over the pitch in Holyhead, drills with her teammates, the roar of the crowd during a good game, seeing her family in the stands wearing Holyhead colors-came to her. None of them brought comfort right now.

In fact, she was disgusted, so much so that she couldn't stay hidden like she had been since Harry had given her the wireless. He hadn't put it in her hands, or even been present when she'd found it sitting on the kitchen table. But she knew he had put effort into finding it and making sure it worked, simply because she'd made an off-hand comment. The very idea made her warm inside, but it also brought confusion.

She wanted to get out, walk a bit and get some blood pumping through her veins to ease the frustration. Flying would be best, but that wasn't an option right now. A walk through the house would have to do. Her leg was still tender, but the crutches had been abandoned yesterday into the closet in her room. In fact, she was no longer taking any pain potion, either. Just a few mild charms now and again helped ease the pain.

The house was still, just as it had been since they'd been locked away. It was not what Ginny had imagined when she'd decided to come here, but then again, how could she have truly imagined anything like it. Hadn't Neville described Harry as someone who craved adrenaline, who didn't handle stillness and inactivity? Unless he was leaving in the middle of the night for some adventure, Ginny hadn't seen that side of him here.

She wandered through the house, trying not to feel sorry for herself. She wasn't where she wanted to be, she missed her friends and family, and she was stuck in this tomb with someone who couldn't stand her very presence.

The kitchen was empty and although it was past dinnertime, Ginny didn't feel hungry. Since Harry didn't eat at this time of day, Ginny had found herself following his pattern and not eating past mid afternoon. And after listening to the horrible game, her stomach probably couldn't handle food, anyway.

The living room was dark, the heavy wood and brocade furniture shadowy ghosts from another century.

"Did they win?"

Ginny gasped and clutched at the back of the sofa, peering into the edges of the room, where Harry sat, completely swallowed in shadow.

"No," she said finally. "Lost spectacularly."

"Oh."

He didn't move and Ginny almost left, unsure of what to do or even say in his presence. She wasn't like this normally, and it frustrated her that she couldn't seem to find courage in front of him to string together words, or to simply tell him to sod off for being such a bastard.

"I'm sorry. I'm sure that was hard to listen and not be able to be there playing."

"It was," she said. "I feel like I lost a limb."

Harry shifted and his face came into view for just a moment. "I can understand that."

"It's flying that I miss the most." Ginny took a chance and came around to sit on the sofa. She still couldn't see him fully, but this semi-conversation was the most they had said to each other all week. She didn't want it to end just yet. "And the thrill of competing, I suppose."

"I've never played."

She opened her mouth to say that she was surprised, as Neville had told her how good Harry was on a broom-instinctual, even. But thinking about the little she knew about Harry's life, she supposed that made sense. "But you fly."

"Yes. I fly." He sounded amused and she wondered what it would look like if he smiled.

The topic of quidditch seemed exhausted and Ginny couldn't seem to find the need to keep it alive. Her mind wandered, searching for anything else to talk about. She was reveling in the small bit of human interaction-actual spoken words, rather than just letters that she'd been receiving.

"Did you grow up in this house?" It was a thought that had been niggling at the back of her mind since they'd come here. There seemed to be no personal effects around, no photographs, no nick-nacks or momentos laying about.

"No." He seemed as if that was all he would say, when she heard a shaky inhale. "I bought this house a few years ago. I thought that maybe I would need it one day. It appears I was right."

Ginny wanted to press, to get answers to the hundreds of questions that poured into her mind, but she wasn't sure he would answer. He'd refused all attempts at interviews for his whole life, and so very little was known about him before he'd appeared on the scene to deal with Voldemort, and become an Auror. But what if she asked all those questions and he retreated into himself again?

"You can ask," he said after a long minute.

"I didn't…" Ginny shok her head, looking away toward the grey lit window. "It's none of my business."

"If I don't want to answer something, then I won't."

She chewed her lip for a moment and then leaned toward him slightly, resting her elbows on her knees and trying not to appear too eager. "Where did you grow up? You don't talk about it. In fact, I don't think anyone knows-beyond what the history books tell us, anyway, about your parents and the…" She gestured toward her forehead, to the same place where his famous scar rested.

He was a long time in answering, and it seemed to Ginny that every word was weighed and measured before it was released. "After my parents were killed-you'll know that much at least-I was raised by my godfather. We lived in various places, never for long in one. Always on the move."

"And you never wanted to go to Hogwarts? Or did you attend somewhere else?"

"I would have loved to attend school, but it just wasn't the best thing, it was decided. I had excellent tutors."

Ginny felt incredibly sad at his words. He had lost so much, sacrificed so much to be this man who sat in front of her. Much more than anyone had ever imagined, she guessed.

"Did you at least get to enjoy your childhood?" she asked. "Have fun now and again?" Her face grew hot and she felt...indignant for him, shattered for the idea of a little boy dragged all over the country, not allowed the same chances that she had been given. Her family might not have been wealthy, but they were rich in many other ways.

Harry leaned forward, mirroring her position. The light caught his eyes, making them almost glow behind his glasses.

"No one has ever asked me that before."

"It just sounds lonely to me," said Ginny. She looked away from his intense gaze, not sure what the look on his face meant. "You should have fun as a kid, enjoy it. It sounds like you were very...sheltered."

"That is a very good word."

Silence crept back in before Harry let out a sigh. "My life was very...focused. I had a job to do and I was raised to understand that."

"Yes, but…" Ginny trailed off and shook her head. "You're more than that, Harry. You shouldn't have been treated that way. No matter...no matter what you had to face later in life."

"Are you...defending me?" He sounded surprised by her words, and Ginny thought about it, realizing how emotional she'd gotten about it all.

"I'm sure it sounds silly," she said.

"Not at all," he said quickly. "I just...didn't think anyone thought about it like that. Most people…" He sighed again and shook his head, looking off into the room. "Most people just see me as a sort of tool, or weapon, I think. I did what they wanted, I got rid of their problem, and now… Most people don't think much of me. I...irritate and annoy them." A hint of a smile played at the corner of his mouth, turning the edges up, and Ginny was awestruck by the change just the small movement made to his face.

"I suppose they may have a point, in a way, since you don't allow people to get close to you. But I don't see you that way. As a weapon, I mean. And you may have had a job to do, a destiny, or whatever you want to call it, but it's not all that defines you."

Harry stood abruptly, startling Ginny. His brow was furrowed. He jerked toward the door, looking at her before he left the room. "Thank you, Ginny."

And then, he was gone.

Ginny let out a shaky breath and tried to put their conversation into perspective. Was Harry angry with her? Did she upset him? She just didn't know. But it felt nice to have connected on some small level, at least.

Day Nine

The package was delivered that morning, brought by Jinx and two other owls that Harry had never seen before-probably hired by Neville for the job. Harry stared down at it as it lay across his bed. It made him feel...strange, and he couldn't quite work out what it all meant. But he just always had these urges to do things for Ginny, to make her stay here more pleasant, he supposed. But there was more to it than that, he knew.

He had to admit that he was horribly bored himself. He craved the action and excitement that came with being an Auror. The thought of sitting in this house for who-knew how long didn't sit well with him. Ginny had to feel the same, given her strong personality and what she did for a profession.

Harry had put most of his time to good use, though. He glanced across the room to the largest wall in his bedroom, where he had tacked up every bit of information he had about the case: file notes, newspaper articles, scribbled case notes from other Aurors, old intelligence about known Death Eaters, leads from his two undercover sources, the history of the case, and so on. The entire wall was covered in a visual display that occasionally mirrored what was in Harry's head. And there were days when he tore it all down before carefully putting it all back up in another order.

Patterns. It was all about patterns, Harry decided. But he still couldn't figure out all of it yet. Who was in charge? Who was after Ginny? And why did they think that a part of Voldemort was still alive in her?

Giving it up before he lost himself to it again, Harry turned away and listened as Ginny moved about the kitchen. He could picture her there, moving carefully on her healed leg, and completely intimate with where Harry kept the pots and pans, bowls and silverware. Another wave of something deep hit Harry in the chest. It wasn't completely comfortable, yet it was becoming more and more familiar to him over the past few days.

Ginny made him uncomfortable, and yet he also felt as if she were becoming a fixture in his life, something that he would miss and want to seek out when it was gone. Being near her was becoming habit, and he felt himself pulled there more and more. It felt against his nature, but also right at the same time. He'd analyzed their relationship, mentally pinned every piece of evidence against a metaphorical wall in his mind-much like the wall in his bedroom-time and time again trying to see the patterns and interactions in a way that made sense to him. But emotion wasn't easy to analyze, and feelings didn't always coincide with evidence. This wasn't a case that Harry could easily solve and then tuck away in a nice, neat file.

"Enough," he told himself, and got up to leave the room, the package still on his bed.

Ginny had already finished her breakfast and was washing the few dishes by hand, staring out the window into the overgrown back garden. She startled when he came into the room, and turned away from him. He noticed her cheeks were pink and wondered what she'd been thinking about.

"Did you eat?"

"I ate earlier," he said, and gestured to the bowl and spoon drying on the cupboard rack. "I didn't sleep well, so I got up." He didn't mention that he'd been waiting for the package to arrive from Neville. He'd sent for it early yesterday morning.

He came to stand next to her, their shoulders almost touching. Reaching into the hot rinse water, he lifted a plate and brushed away the few soap bubbles that remained.

"You don't have to-"

"It's okay."

When the final dish was washed and rinsed, Harry looked into the sink and wished that he could summon every dishe from every cupboard to line up next to wash.

"Why don't you use magic?" he asked. "It would be faster."

Ginny pushed the bubbles off her hands after pulling the stopper out of the sink and gave a little half-laugh. "Habit, I suppose, more than anything." She reached across him and picked up the bowl that Harry had magically cleaned earlier. Running her finger over the edge, she looked up at him. "When you use magic," she said, "it leaves little chips and nicks, sometimes. Mum always used to make us wash by hand. When I was younger, I thought it was just to give us more work to keep us out of trouble, or because of the trace. But then Mum showed me that she had the same dishes since she and Dad had been married."

Harry peered at the ceramic bowl, just now seeing the small imperfections that Ginny pointed out. "I've never noticed before."

Ginny smiled and set the dish back down. "It takes more time, too, and it's not like I have anyplace pressing that I need to be."

"About that," Harry said. He turned on his heel, leaving Ginny standing at the sink still. He returned with the package in his hand, the brown paper crinkling between his fingers. "I sent for this. You said that you missed flying."

Ginny's hands lifted and Harry could see them shake slightly as she reached toward him, eyes wide and mouth gaping.

"You… My broom?!"

He nodded awkwardly and handed it over. Their fingers brushed and Harry felt a tingle pass between them. He shoved his hands into his jeans and watched as she tore into the paper, caressing her hands up and down the waxed shaft while a grin stretched her face.

"I don't…I can't believe you did this."

"There's no reason you can't fly in the back garden," he said. "It's secluded enough." 

Ginny launched herself at him and Harry clutched at her, afraid that she may just tip them over with the forcefulness of her hug. He didn't know how to respond, so he stiffly patted her back.

"Harry, I…" Her eyes were shiny with tears when she pulled back and Harry felt his heart hammer inside his chest. Had he done something wrong, or something right?

"Can we go now?" She jumped up and down a little, clutching her broom to her. "I don't even care that I'm still in my pyjamas."

Harry made the mistake of looking at her, seeing her legs sticking out of a pair of sleep shorts. He reacted predictably and looked away, seeing nothing across the room, but only thinking of those legs.

"You may want a coat," he said. "Er, you know...it's chilly."

Ginny let out a laugh and scurried out of the room. "I'll just...meet you out there," Harry stammered. He closed his eyes and prayed he could control himself. He hadn't had a reaction like that in quite some time. Granted, he didn't place himself in women's arms enough to have it be an issue. Relationships were too...complicated.

Once Ginny was back, having dressed more appropriately for the weather, Harry felt he had himself under control. He took a cloak off the hook near the door and opened it wide for her.

Her eyes shined, and she took a huge breath of crisp morning air, letting it out in little puffs of steam, and then laughing. Without any warning, she leapt on the broom and was off.

"Might want to keep it low," Harry called out. He couldn't help but smile as she soared over the long grass in the garden, rustling it and coming away with dew-soaked shoes. Zooming around the trees, Harry could see her eyeing the dark edges of the garden, past the low fence that separated Harry's property from the forest behind it.

"How far back does it go?"

"I own it all," Harry said. He no longer fought his amusement at her joy and even laughed whens she spun upside down and her long hair hung down. She did several tricky flips and maneuvers that had him impressed, as well as more than a little aroused, before she came to hover next to him.

"Well, Potter?" Her eyebrow rose in challenge. "Are you going to show me what you've got?"

Harry bit his lip and shook his head slowly before raising his hand, silently summoning his own broom from inside the house. Ginny stared at him, possibly shocked at his wandless magic, before shaking her head and laughing.

"I think I can keep up, Weasley."

CHAPTER 6

Day Twelve

He was tying himself into knots. Surely Ginny didn't feel that way about him. She hardly knew him! And he hardly knew her, if he were honest. But that didn't stop the thoughts from coming. It wasn't right, he told himself over and over, to think of her that way. Ginny wasn't just some girl he could think about that way. She was...a woman who needed his protection. She was in a very vulnerable state. There was no way that Harry could ever act on the things he was feeling.

Besides, he'd proven to himself before that a relationship with Harry Potter just wouldn't work.

All the same, the thoughts were pleasant and he couldn't help but revel in them when he was alone.

Flying with Ginny wasn't helping. They flew together every day, several times a day if it wasn't raining. Sometimes they were lazy, circling about the garden with no real purpose. And sometimes, it was as if they were testing each other, daring the other to go harder, faster, do more risky maneuvers. It felt a bit...like foreplay, if he were honest.

He hadn't given up working on the case, but Harry found himself drawn more and more to be with Ginny. Time locked away in his room was less intriguing. They didn't talk about heavy things-mostly Ginny's time with the Harpies and some of Harry's cases. And besides the sexual tension-which Harry thought was likely just on his side-there was an ease to being with Ginny. She made him feel...young and light, as if the things outside this little house didn't matter as much as he knew they should.

They were sitting on the back porch, both leaning against the railing, looking out at the bright October sky. They'd just finished one of their punishing rides and Harry couldn't stop himself from looking at her now and again. He felt inexplicably shy, and wondered when he'd changed so much. Not too long ago, he wouldn't have been bothered to stare at her if he wanted. But now...it just felt off to look at her when he couldn't seem to control the thoughts in his head.

"This makes it all bearable," she said.

"I'm sorry it was horrible before."

"It wasn't." Ginny looked at him quickly before looking down at her lap, where her fingers were pulling at the skin near the edge of her fingernail. "I mean...well, it was." She laughed softly. "I suppose we can be honest."

"Yes." Harry said it, even though he knew he wouldn't be fully honest with her. Not about some things.

"You can admit how bad it was," Ginny said. Her lips quirked slyly and she looked up at him, her bright eyes dancing. "It must have been-and maybe it still is. I know I'm not always pleasant to be around. Especially when I'm feeling sorry for myself."

"That's not-"

But Ginny overrode him, gushing words. "I'm sure there are places you'd rather be, people you'd rather spend time with. In fact, your girlfriend must have been just thrilled when you told her you had to be locked away with me indefinitely." She gave a little snort, and the smile slipped away from her, leaving her looking rather sad. "That had to be a fun conversation."

"It wasn't," Harry said, and then cursed to himself. "I mean, I don't...there's nobody. I didn't tell anyone where I was going."

She was quiet for a moment. "Not even your godfather?"

He turned slightly and reached over to stop her from pulling the skin completely away from her nail. "Ginny. Look at me, please."

His chest swelled when she did look at him, and Harry took a deep breath to help collect his thoughts. "Your safety was my primary focus. What happens to me...my personal life, none of that matters right now. _You_ matter."

Her brow furrowed as she looked deeply at him. "Harry…" She shook her head and pulled her hand away from his, turning to look back out to the garden. "I don't know how to answer when you say things like that."

"You don't have to say anything" he said. "But I thought we were being honest."

Instead of answering, Ginny just nodded. "Are you hungry? I can make us something for lunch."

"That sounds good."

Day 13

"Damn it."

Neville stared at the map at swore, this time more creatively, but inside his head. While Harry might have let some very innovative profanity fall loudly from his lips and not care at all who heard, Neville always felt as if his stern grandmother might just pop out from behind some desk in the Auror office and charm soap into his mouth if he followed suit.

"No luck?" Tonks asked. She glanced up from the newspaper she was reading and peered at him from across the room.

"No," he grumbled. "I just can't figure this out."

"Take a break," she suggested. "You've been killing yourself over this for more than two weeks. Go for a walk, get some food, go see your Gran...go on a date."

Neville glared at her and turned back to the map he was looking at. Small dots blinked here and there where they had surveillance attached to specific subjects. They'd been tracking known Death Eaters, and had even been spying on suspected ones, but nobody had made a move since the last attack on Ginny.

Several of the Aurors were convinced that meant that Bellatrix Lestrange's death had solved the problem, and that the case should be closed now. Neville wasn't so easily swayed. Harry said no, that there was more going on, and Neville trusted him.

Tonks stood and came over to look at the map. She swatted him on the shoulder with her newspaper and tossed it onto his desk. "I'm serious, Longbottom. You're going to go blind staring at that crazy thing."

He scowled at her and shrugged off her concern. "Leave off." He glanced away from the map and down to the paper, where a photo of Ginny streaking toward the goal was seen, partially hidden by the fold. He picked it up and glared at the headline under the sports section of the Daily Prophet, proclaiming that although Ginny was listed as 'injured' by the Harpies, that the reporter speculated that she was really in some private mind healing clinic for those who were addicted to potions. Neville's shoulders fell and he tossed the entire paper toward the bin. This was not the first salacious gossip-driven headline since Ginny had disappeared, and he knew the conjecture would continue until Ginny returned-possibly even after, too. She'd always been thought of as a squeaky-clean player, with little to no controversy, but that was over now, he supposed.

"Poor kid," Tonks said. She shook her head and glanced at Neville. The whole departement knew that Ginny had gone into hiding, but only Neville knew just where. Harry had only told him, so that he could act as messenger and facilitate their needs.

"Yeah. She's not going to be happy when she gets back."

"But she'll come out of it alright," Tonks said with a half-smile. "They say there is no such thing as bad publicity, right? There may be rumors, but she'll prove them wrong over time."

Neville only nodded and thought about how strong Ginny was going to have to be. Again. She seemed to overcome time and time again in her life. He just hoped she had enough fight left after this last blow. He hadn't seen her since she and Harry had been locked away. Her letters were...down, but Neville could tell that she was trying to make the best of the situation. And Harry wouldn't let her languish, he knew. Neville would just have to do his best to help Ginny beat this when she was finally able to come back.

"How's Harry getting along?"

Another manipulation of the truth. Everyone had been told that Harry was going deep undercover to track these Death Eaters and would be unavailable for contact anytime soon. It was an easier lie to back up, as Harry had disappeared that way before. It made sense to those in the department, and the press had long given up trying to track Harry's motions and motivations. He gave them the slip every single time, and he couldn't have cared less about their gossip reports concerning him.

"He's as fine as can be expected," said Neville. In truth, Harry was...off, somehow, Neville thought. They'd met up twice in the middle of the night, after Harry had requested the cloak-and-dagger meetings in various muggle pubs. And Harry had seemed...distracted, less communicative than usual-which was really saying something. Granted, Neville couldn't imagine being locked up and hidden away from the one thing that demanded your full efforts and concentration. He didn't blame Harry for being surly.

Tonks opened her mouth to ask another question, but stopped abruptly when her eyes caught movement at the doorway. Neville turned to see Arthur Weasley standing just inside their office, hands clasped behind him. He looked as if he'd aged several years in the past month.

"Arthur."

"Auror Tonks. Auror Longbottom." He nodded at both of them, but his eyes remained on Neville.

"I'll just…" Tonks waved her hand toward the open door and scurried out, closing it behind her.

"I wondered if you might have a few minutes for me?"

Neville stood, banging his knees into his desk, causing a horrible screeching sound. He winced and tried to rub surreptitiously at his sore leg before nodding and scrambling to gather up his case notes and the map that Harry had created, which were scattered all over his desk. He also tucked Tonks' newspaper under the edge of other parchments, hoping to hide the headline from Ginny's father.

"Yes, sir," he stammered. Neville had absolutely no idea what he could say to the man beyond what they both knew of the investigation. All of the upper Ministry officials were briefed on the situation daily, and Neville knew that Arthur was close enough to Moody and Kingsley both that he could get any information he needed through them.

"Er, here," Neville leaned over to tug a seldom-used chair from near the wall closer to his desk. "Unless you'd prefer-"

"This is fine." Arthur smiled at him and Neville took a shaky breath in. He'd always respected the quiet, misunderstood man before him. Many people in the Ministry saw Arthur Weasley as nothing but a muggle-loving fool, but Neville understood the quiet power within. He'd stood strong when the Ministry was faltering under the second rise of Voldemort, and fought in the Final Battle, shoulder to shoulder with others who were deemed much more capable. And through it all he'd held his family together, despite their fringe involvement in the war.

"What can I…" Neville cleared his throat and started again. "What can I do for you, Secretary Weasley?"

But Arthur just shook his head slowly. "Neville, we've known each other for too many years for you to call me that."

Neville managed a small smile. "I'm not sure…"

"You're one of Ginny's best friends," Arthur continued. "You were close with both Ron and Hermione, as well. I respect you enough to call you by your first name. You can respect me enough to call me by mine." He waited just a moment before tapping his finger on the file that Neville had his elbow resting on.

"Anything new today?"

Neville cleared his throat once more, praying his voice didn't squeak like a twelve-year-old boy, and pulled Harry's blinking map out. "I'm afraid nothing much," he said. "There's some movement with the Death Eaters we've been tracking, but Harry's convinced there is a new cell-or one that we just haven't discovered yet."

Arthur leaned forward and peered at the map, finally taking it from Neville, his eyes roving over it. He lifted his wand and tapped one of the still dots. A bubble of information floated above the parchment, listing who the dot was assigned to-Lucius Malfoy-and the details about his recent activity.

"Impressive," Arthur said. "Who-"

"It's Harry's work," Neville said. "He...well, he sort of has this thing about maps."

Arthur tapped a few more times, adding 'hmm's' and 'ahh's' to indicate he was interested in the magic behind it all. Finally, he laid it back down on the desk.

"And you've been watching Malfoy closely? You know about our history, I presume."

Neville nodded jerkily. "And his history with Ginny."

A dark shadow flashed in Arthur's eyes. "Yes. The diary."

"Honestly…" Neville ran his hands through his hair. "There are some here who are convinced he's involved."

"But not you."

"No. And not Harry. There's just...no evidence. Malfoy was humiliated by Vol-Voldemort that last year. You saw how he was treated. I can't imagine that he would be willing to bring that monster back for another round."

Arthur thought about that for a moment and the nodded slowly. "I can see that point of view. And his son?"

"Draco? No, I really don't think so. He was even more...reticent to be involved than his family was. He may have provided information and taken the mark, but I can't see him being in any type of leadership role. And Bellatrix Lestrange never would have taken orders from someone like Draco Malfoy."

Arthur nodded again, but Neville couldn't read the man well enough to know if it was conceding the point, or simply absorbing the information. "You've been cleared of all that...mess?"

A lump formed in Neville's throat as he remembered appearing before the Wizengamot council to answer for his actions that resulted in Bellatrix's death. "Yes. Once I explained, and after Harry's written statement of what was happening...before I arrived. It's finished."

"And how are you dealing with it? Emotionally."

Neville looked up, surprised at the question. Harry had been the only other one to ask, since he knew Neville's full history. "I'm...dealing with it. I can't say I'm not relieved that she's gone. I would have rather seen her rot in Azkaban for the rest of her life. Does that make me a bad person?"

Arthur barked out a little laugh. "No. Not at all. Not after what she did to your parents. Not after the damage she caused during the war." His face contracted into a scowl. "We all have a bit of weakness in us, Neville. And we all stumble, at times, but it's about who we come out to be after those stumbles that is the measure of us. You've always been a good friend, a good Auror, and a good man. Don't let a little stumble hold you back."

Neville felt the vice that had gripped his mind since the incident release slightly more. Harry had said something similar, only much more blunt and with more curse words.

"How is…" Arthur cleared his throat and looked away for a moment. "How is Ginny doing?"

"Good," Neville barked out. "I mean, well…"

"Hasn't burned anything down, yet, at least." They both shared a smirk at the thought of Ginny's fiery personality.

"I sent her broom the other day," Neville said. "Harry thought...well, he thought it would be alright for her to fly a little. There's a protected place…" He trailed off, knowing that he couldn't say much more. Arthur only knew that Ginny and Harry were together, not where. And it wasn't like Neville could say much anyway; he wasn't the Secret-Keeper.

Arthur leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Neville, I know that you know Harry Potter better than any of us-if such a thing is possible. But...I can't help but have my concerns. I just don't know why she chose him. I thought...well, I thought it would be you, honestly."

Neville could understand the concern for what it was. "I know you only have my word for it, and Harry's reputation, but… Arthur, she's in the best possible hands, I assure you. Harry's...he can be singularly focused, at times. And right now, protecting Ginny is his entire life. He'll never deviate from it until it's no longer needed."

"If you'd have seen…"A lump formed in his throat when he thought about the scene he Apparated into in Ginny's flat. "He threw himself over her. He'd never even met her before-not face to face, anyway-and he stood in front of those curses for her. If that doesn't prove his devotion…"

"Say no more," Arthur said with a quaver in his voice. "I...I've read the reports. And even though Ginny wouldn't tell me...I've been in enough houses after that sort of attack…" He trailed off and shook his head. "We may not understand, but she...she understood."

"It'll all be over soon, anyway," said Neville. He tried to believe it, he really did.

"Let's hope," said Arthur. "I'm not sure I can hold the boys back any longer when the next salacious story comes out." They both shared a shaky smile.

"I'm not giving up, and neither is Harry. None of us will rest until this is finished."

"That's a promise I can trust." Arthur held out his hand and Neville stared at it for a moment before shaking it. They watched each other in silence for a moment before Arthur removed a small stack of envelopes from the inner pocket of his robes. "Pass these along, will you?"

"My pleasure."

CHAPTER 7

Day 14

Ginny looked critically at herself in the mirror, pulling at her cheeks with her fingertips, tracing the freckles along her nose, and, not for the first time wishing she were more beautiful. Oh, she'd been told she was pretty a time or two, but living in her own skin made it hard to see, at times.

She looked pale now, and wondered if it was being locked away that made her lose the luster of sun-warmed skin that she'd had only weeks ago. Flying in the back garden was helping, though. Just the thought made her shiver in anticipation and...something much more pleasant.

Yesterday, she'd let Harry lead while they wove in and out of the trees, speeding faster and faster. She'd kept up with him easily, and was pleasantly surprised that they were so evenly matched. Harry may not be an athlete in the strictest definition of the word, but he had an athletic grace while flying that was both instinctual and bloody brilliant. And horribly arousing, Ginny groused.

She shook the thought away and turned away from the mirror. Staring wouldn't change her appearance. And it wouldn't change the fact that she shouldn't be having those types of thoughts about Harry. He was here to protect her, nothing else. The pull she felt toward him, those deep feelings he stirred inside her, they were nothing more than gratitude and...misplaced lust. That's what it had to be.

And she wouldn't let it spoil the enjoyment she got out of spending time with him any longer.

She gathered her things and went out into the kitchen, expecting that Harry would be there waiting, as he had for the past few days. They ate breakfast together, and then flew.

But he wasn't there.

And the house was silent once more.

On the table was a stack of letters from her family, passed through Neville to Harry, to her. Where Ginny may have once pounced on them, devouring every single word, now she just brushed her fingers over them. Life just seemed so...removed.

And maybe Harry had grown tired of their flights, or she'd let her attraction to him slip out from behind her carefully constructed walls, and it had either disgusted or embarrassed him.

Either way, it looked as if she would have to wait for flying today. She didn't dare go outside without Harry, even though the sun was shining through the trees invitingly, and he had assured her that the garden was safe.

"Bollocks," she whispered and set her broom in the corner of the room near the door, a silent signal that she was ready anytime Harry decided to grace her with his presence.

Annoyance grew as she made her solitary breakfast and she listened carefully for any sound coming from Harry's room. Surely he hadn't _left_? But no sound came. It was just as it was the first week they'd been here.

Ginny tried not to let it affect her mood-which had been brilliant when she'd woken just an hour ago-but she couldn't help that it did. While she ate her food, she replayed their conversations from yesterday, trying to find where she had let herself slip, said the wrong thing, touched him in some way, or looked at him in a way that betrayed more than just her enjoyment of their flying.

Nothing came to mind.

Absently, she fingered the leather cord that she wore around her neck, still connected to the small bit of pendant that Harry had charmed before the attack. It was broken now, but she persisted in wearing it. In fact, she never took it off anymore, just wore it beneath her shirts, hidden away. She'd made the mistake of taking it off that one time, and it had cost so much. She'd broken her promise to Neville, and by extension, to Harry himself. It would never happen again.

But she also couldn't bring herself to ask Harry to fix it, or make a new one.

The letters from her family were read after she ate, and Ginny found some amusing bits that helped dull the ache from missing Harry's presence. George and Ron were particularly funny, relating some of the clients who came into the joke shop they'd just opened last fall. Percy was full of high-and-mighty warnings for her safety, but Ginny understood that was just how he showed how much he cared. Plus, he'd included a photograph of his little daughter, and the toddler's chubby-cheeked smile made up for his stiff tones. Her mother's letter was full of stories about the family, but there was an undertone of sadness, disconnect, and longing there that threatened to break Ginny's heart. She couldn't even finish reading it before tucking it away for later.

Neville had included a note to her of his own, an update on the case, in general terms. Jokingly, he'd added a final line asking Ginny to find a way to loosen Harry up a little bit.

"If only," she sighed and put the note with the stack. Her mind wandered to what it might be like if she'd met Harry before all of this mess. Neville had been trying for years to get them to do more than nod at each other in passing. He'd arranged meet-ups at pubs, dinners, and even tried to bring Harry to a Weasley family picnic once. But there was always something standing in the way: a game for her, some case he was working on. It never worked out.

Would they have connected? Would they have hated each other?

Ginny tugged at the necklace, letting her fingers twist and turn in the leather while she imagined a scene where they'd met before now. There would be awkward conversation, some misunderstandings where Harry's brashness would clash with her impetuousness, but in the end, Ginny thought they may be able to move past it all to get down to who they were underneath their jobs, titles, and pasts. She really did feel something past lust for him, she decided..

"What in the _hell_ are you wearing?!"

The map needed an update. And his case notes were days past updating. Harry stood in front of the wall in his bedroom, staring at the intricately devised scheme, and yet seeing none of the patterns he'd hoped to.

He'd been too distracted. He'd let himself get lost in a few pleasurable moments, at the risk of everyone's lives. If they didn't stop these Death Eaters soon, not only would Ginny be in trouble, but the whole of the Magical community may be at risk.

With a twist of his wrist, Harry tore all of it from the wall and began to pin it back up, carefully trying to find new patterns, to see what they'd been missing. It was there. It had to be.

It didn't matter that it was midnight and that he should be sleeping. The burning in his eyes didn't bother him enough to stop. He needed to figure this out.

Hours later, the wall was covered again, but Harry was still feeling desperate and jumbled. There was a large circle of faded wallpaper in the very center of his mapping that sat empty. It was the key to everything, he knew, but he just couldn't put it together.

It was nearly four in the morning when he snatched a piece of parchment off the desk and scribbled out some notes for Neville to look into. Somewhere there was a missing link, someone to tie together all the different organizations that they had found, as well as that one that Harry felt was hovering just outside his reach. Once the note was fixed to Jinx's leg, Harry allowed himself to lay down and stare at the wall. He fell asleep within seconds.

It was late morning when he woke again, and he felt out of sorts. He hadn't gotten enough sleep, and his mind was still whirling and stumbling over the missing piece of the puzzle. Add to that, he'd had a dream of Ginny calling out to him, needing his help, but he just couldn't get to her in time. She'd disappeared from his dream and Harry had gone crazy trying to find her with no luck.

He was late to meet Ginny, and from the silence in the house, he assumed she was furious with him and had locked herself away to avoid seeing him. Unless...perhaps he'd forgotten to keep his thoughts hidden yesterday, let his feelings for her become visible, and she hadn't liked what she'd seen.

At any rate, his stomach was growling, and he knew he'd have to face her eventually. He shuffled out into the kitchen, having not shaved or even changed out of his rumpled clothing from the day before.

Ginny was sitting at the kitchen table, her letters open before her and spread on the table. But she was staring off into the distance as her fingers played with…

Bloody hell.

Was that the amulet he'd made for her?

It had been shattered when the Lestrange bitch attacked. Why was she wearing it now? And why were her fingers running along the leather, stroking down to the piece of shattered pendant, caressing it almost lovingly?

Harry took in a shaky breath and forced his eyes away from the line of her neck. "What in the _hell_ are you wearing?!" He dove toward her, grabbing the piece of pendant from where it sat against her chest and glaring down at it.

"Harry! I… It's the pendant you made." Ginny looked up at him, her wide eyes full of surprise and a little bit of fright. "I never take it off now."

"Why?" Harry asked. "It's broken. It doesn't even work. And you don't need it. I'm here."

But rather than concede that he was right, Ginny puffed up her chest and stood up straight, glaring at him. "Are you here? You tend to disappear whenever it suits you."

Harry opened his mouth to defend himself, but Ginny wasn't half through yet.

"And I'll wear anything I want. I promised I wouldn't take it off, and I did. And then...we both got hurt. I won't break that promise again. It might not work, but I gave my word. It doesn't leave me. Ever."

Harry swallowed those words and digested them, trying to make sense of her logic. "But…"

"You made this to protect me, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Then that's why I'm wearing it."

He looked away, thinking of all that he'd done to create the pendant. It wasn't an easy process, and it had taken him two full days of trial and error to get the charm layering correct on Ginny's. The others had been easy once he'd understood the necessary steps. But Ginny's…

"Why did you make this?" She held up the small bit of silver metal, nearly shoving it in his face. "Hermione told me that it would be nearly impossible to do."

Harry's face heated and he took a step back, scowling. "Nearly impossible doesn't mean impossible."

"And it worked!" Ginny gave a laugh, but there was no humor in it. Neville had once told Harry that Ginny's temper was a sight to behold if you let her get into her stride. "I can't believe it bloody worked. And...and you came."

She trailed off and a new emotion filled her eyes, something deep and unrecognizable. "You came, and you stood in front of her...and you saved me."

"No." Harry backed away, his hands up between them. "I mean, yes, I did, but…"

"Don't you try to downplay it," Ginny warned him, complete with finger wagging in his face. "That's twice."

"It is not."

"Voldemort?"

Harry felt all hot again, but Ginny wasn't in the mood to concede anything right now. "That's not the same thing, and you know it."

"It is to me."

They stood in the middle of the kitchen, an arms length apart, chests heaving with emotion and the fury of the words said.

Harry couldn't help but be attracted to her in that minute. He remembered everything that Neville had ever told him about her. It was not enough; he wanted to know everything, all the tiny little bits that not even a best friend knew. And there was a part of him that thought that maybe with all of Neville's talking and meddling, that Harry had been half in love with Ginny before he'd ever laid eyes on her.

"Ginny, I-"

But he never got another word out. Ginny launched herself at him, her lips landing roughly on his, and her arms pulling her to him. There was no mistaking what she was telling him.

And in that moment, everything changed.

Ginny didn't seem to be able to stop herself. Harry was there, standing across the kitchen from her, close enough that she could see his heart beat in his neck. She looked at it there, that fast pulse, pulse, pulse, and at the blazing look in his eyes. And she knew. It would all be different now.

He'd given her everything. He'd stood in front of her, shielding her with his own body while he was tortured. And when he couldn't stand anymore, he'd fallen on top of her, still protecting her. He'd made the pendant for her-even Hermione still couldn't work out how-and he'd sacrificed his entire life to protect her.

He was everything that Neville had ever told her he was, and so much more.

And so she kissed him.

His chin was rough with stubble, and he smelled like warm linen. She clutched at him, and his arms came around to hold her there, just as he tilted his head and brushed her lips with the tip of his tongue.

That opened the flood gates and Ginny moaned, winding her hands into his rumpled t-shirt. Harry, not to be outdone, lifted her and set her bum on the edge of the table. His enthusiasm spilled over into the kiss, dragging them both into the intoxicating moment until Ginny couldn't think straight, and she needed air.

They broke apart, greedily gulping in great gasps before moving together again. Harry held her hips, and slid one of his hands down her thigh to lift it over his hip, angling them slightly until they were deliciously melded together. She could feel his ardour and urgency in the way he held her. He wasn't gentle, but he wasn't hurting her either. She dug her fingertips into his shoulders and Harry groaned in pleasure.

A little giggle burst out of her and Harry growled more loudly. "This is funny?"

"A little," she mumbled while kissing him. "We were just arguing."

Harry only 'hmm'd' in response before he broke away. His chest was rising and falling rapidly with his breathing. His glasses were crooked and smudged from where he'd pressed them into her forehead, cheeks, and nose. But it was his eyes-that same blazing, scorching look that he'd worn earlier-that convinced her that she wasn't alone in this. And it wasn't just lust.

"How long?" she whispered.

Harry pulled back slightly and ran his hands through his hair before fixing his glasses.

"Damned Neville," he said. "Never shut up about you." Ginny blinked at him, unsure if what he was saying was true. "I swear I already knew you before we even met."

Ginny dove at him again, pressing her lips to his. "Yes, damned Neville."

"Not here," he grumbled, before sliding his hands under her bottom and lifting her to him. "Not here."

He carried her back down the hallway, bumping into things all along the hallway, before closing the door.

CHAPTER 8

There wasn't a time when Harry could remember being really happy. Content, maybe, but happiness seemed to elude him, as if he couldn't quite grasp the concept. Both Sirius and Remus had tried to explain, but it seemed like such a foreign concept to him.

There was enjoyment. There was pleasure. There was contentment. There was even cheer.

But happiness, in Harry's mind, at least, indicated some sort of permanence, or at least the option of it.

He looked down at Ginny, asleep against his shoulder, her hair a riot of color against the white sheet beneath them, and thought he might have just found it.

There were so many things wrong-Death Eaters roaming the country, he and Ginny in hiding, the threat of another war on the horizon-but Harry could take a deep breath in and put those things to the back of his mind. He let himself live in the moment, for at least a little while.

Ginny's room was on the opposite side of the house from his, and got more morning sun. The golden light from the window made it seem as if the pale yellow walls glowed, despite the aging, cracking plaster. And it had the faint odor of flowers from somewhere, even though there were no flowers to be seen. Harry pondered that it was likely something Ginny wore, as he'd caught the scent before.

She shifted against him, curling her arm across his chest and over his shoulder, rubbing deliciously in all the right places. Thankfully, she'd put on his t-shirt before they'd dozed off, otherwise he would not have been able to let her sleep at all, he was afraid.

With one final smile, and knowing that they should really get up since it had to be mid-morning or early afternoon, Harry closed his eyes and dozed off.

Day 20

Their days fell into a sort of pattern, similar to what they had been with shared meals and flying, but there was just a whole lot more sex involved now. The thought made Ginny smirk as she prepared the coffee and set it to brewing.

Harry still disappeared into his bedroom at times, but he spent most of his time with her. She hadn't gathered the nerve to ask what he was doing in there, just assumed it had something to do with her case, or maybe another one he was working. Falling asleep each night wrapped in Harry Potter's arms was worth a few hours of distance during the day.

It all felt so...fast, and yet right, at the same time. They were in such an awkward position, having been locked together and getting to really know each other under a sort of pressure-cooker situation. And there was still so much to learn, so much to discover about each other's lives.

There were little stumbles, like when they woke up that first day, exchanging blushes and smiles, stolen kisses, and caresses. But then the moment when they had to decide how to shower-together or apart? And how much sex was too much? There was a balance that needed to be reached, and they were still feeling out that part of the relationship. Harry seemed to think that no surface was out of bounds, just as no time of day was inappropriate. It didn't occur to him that intimacy did not replace conversation.

Ginny was more reserved, but she still craved him almost constantly. So much so that her thighs were getting more of a workout than they had since she'd stopped playing quidditch.

Getting lost in the memories, Ginny stared out of the back garden, not even seeing the trees. Those very same trees had a few stories to tell now, when they'd gotten distracted on a few of their flying trips.

She gasped, however, when a ragged looking man appeared out of nowhere and began marching through the tall grass toward the back door.

"Harry!"

Ginny clutched her wand and tried not to raise her voice too high. The man might hear.

"Harry!"

He was almost to the door when Harry came into the room, rubbing a towel over his shower-wet hair. "Wassa?"

"A man!" she hissed. She pulled her robe tighter around her, cinching the tie, and pointed at the window.

Harry leaped toward the glass, nearly pressing his nose to the pane before he sighed. "It's Sirius."

"Harry! He'll see me."

But Harry only chuckled and pulled her to him. "He won't. I haven't told him."

She scowled and tried to pull away, knowing that Harry's godfather could walk in and see her at any minute. Not to mention that she was prancing around Harry's kitchen wearing nothing but her bathrobe! And the self-satisfied smirk on Harry's face was sure to give them away.

"Watch," he whispered as he pulled her close for one last kiss. The second before the door swung open, Harry took a large step away from her, throwing his towel over his shoulder and grinning.

Ginny tried to melt into the faded wallpaper when the tall, rail-thin man burst into the room. He appeared to be dressed in nothing but rags, but Ginny could tell that they were clean. His hair was long, sort of stringy, but pulled back into a ponytail. Honestly, he looked like one of those hippies who hung out in downtown London. She could picture him there, with a guitar strap slung around his shoulder, strumming some song, busking for change as the crowds walked by. His face was aged, and had a bit of a leathery look that bespoke of a hard life lived without much comfort.

"Hey, kiddo."

Sirius greeted Harry warmly, with a smile that lit up his face, and a handshake that turned into one of those awkward back-slapping hugs. Harry returned both and Ginny, although she was sure Sirius would turn and demand who she was any minute, was intrigued to see their interactions.

"Hey, old man."

"Not so old," Sirius chided. He sniffed the air and his eyes passed right over Ginny, huddled against the wall. "Coffee?"

Harry laughed and offered a seat at the table. "Want a cuppa?"

"Of course. When have I ever turned down coffee...or firewhiskey?"

"All you're getting is coffee."

Ginny watched, both horrified and fascinated, as Harry poured a cup, snuck a quick wink in her direction, and sat down across from his godfather. She tentatively raised her hand, hesitated, and then gave a half wave, wondering if she could draw his attention.

Sirius didn't flinch, even though Ginny was directly in his line of vision.

"How's the case coming?"

Harry fell right into the conversation, explaining the ins and outs, things Ginny had already heard. She tuned out the specifics and watched their interactions, curious about the man who had raised Harry.

Ginny shifted slightly, looking at both men, weighing their similar mannerisms. They both took their coffee the same way, stirred it the same way, and waited to drink until it was lukewarm, not scalding hot. Their conversation was stilted, coming in ebbs and flows, all at once, and then there would be quiet for long minutes before another sentence or two tumbled out.

When Sirius finally took a sip, he coughed and peered down into his cup. "Holy shit, Harry! Are you trying to kill me?"

Harry snorted and glanced at Ginny, who gave him a little smirk. She must have been distracted this morning while measuring out the coffee grounds. Apparently, it was a bit strong.

"Yeah, er, sorry. I was...busy this morning. Must have measured too much in."

Sirius glared at the cup as if it had done him wrong, but then shrugged a shoulder and kept right on drinking.

"So, any news on the Weasley girl? She's in hiding, right?"

"That's what I hear," Harry said carefully.

"Was she a right pain in the arse when you were around her?" Sirius asked. He wore a sort of nasty smirk, as if he couldn't wait to hear that she was a horrible bitch. "Athletes, you know…"

Harry shifted, staring down at his cup. "Er, no. Not really. We didn't spend much time together then, to be honest."

"I'll bet she was," Sirius continued. "The press is full of stories about her right now-the nastiest stuff."

Ginny gasped and Harry forced a cough, drawing Sirius' attention. Sirius obviously couldn't hear her or see her, but Harry must have done it out of habit. Sirius peered at Harry's odd behavior.

"Sorry. Coffee." Harry coughed once more for effect and raised an eyebrow in Ginny's direction. "All of that is rubbish," he said. "Ginny's...just fine."

"I'm sure she is," Sirius said in a slightly scandalous tone as he leaned back into the chair and slung an arm over the back of it, peering at Harry.

"Seen Remus lately?"

Sirius seemed intent on pushing more, but finally backed off with a shake of his head. "About a week ago. He's come back from the continent. Spent a month in Albania, tracking down leads."

Harry perked up. "Anything good?"

"Not what we'd hoped. He found the body, but it was so decayed there was no way to tell for sure It's not like it matters much anyway, not after all these years."

Ginny peered at Harry. The things they were now talking about was new information for her, and she wondered if she ought to leave. But Harry didn't signal her in any way, so she stayed. She tried to catch his eye, but Harry seemed intent on what his godfather was saying.

While Sirius went on about Remus' other information in various countries, Ginny slid over just a bit more into Harry's line of sight. She reached up and slowly slid her fingers under the edge of her robe, every so slightly opening it at the neck. Harry's eyes bulged and he lurched into the table with a quick shake of his head.

Ginny bit her lip and pulled her hand away. Sirius may not be able to see her, but Harry certainly could. And she was not above torturing him a little. Harry's face began to heat, but he couldn't seem to look away as she lifted her leg, exposing a small sliver of thigh. She swore she could see a bit of sweat glisten on his upper lip as he tried to focus on what Sirius was saying while still watching her.

He made a strange sound in the back of his throat and Sirius broke off what he was saying to glare at Harry.

"Are you okay? You seem...off."

"Just...just tired," Harry excused. He tore his eyes away from Ginny, who covered her leg back up to give the poor man a break. "This case is...taxing."

"Nothing new, though?"

Harry kept his eyes away from Ginny, ignoring whatever stunt she might pull next. "No. And that's part of it. There's something we're missing, Sirius. There's this...gaping hole there that I can't seem to wrap my brain around. Nothing makes sense. The information has to be getting between the groups somehow, but we can't connect any of the dots beyond that they all once served Voldemort. But not all together, and some didn't even know each other."

Sirius rubbed his jaw and looked lost in thought. "Yeah, old moldyshorts didn't inspire a hellva lot of confidence between his minions, did he?"

"And that's just it. I'd expect these cells to keep to themselves, but they seem to move in concentric circles, with much of the same information shared. Where do they connect? What is the common source?"

"You're too close," Sirius said roughly. "You can't see it because you're looking at the trees, not the forest."

Ginny felt a little twinge of guilt. She was likely the reason that Harry was struggling to solve the mystery of it all. And he'd become even more distracted when they'd begun this relationship. She looked down at the floor before making up her mind to slip away from the conversation. She should change, anyway.

Harry caught her eye as Sirius rose to pour himself another cup of coffee. His brow furrowed, as if he could read her mind, and she forced a little smile onto her face. He knew it wasn't genuine, but couldn't do anything about it with his godfather standing two steps away.

Once she'd changed and composed herself, Ginny quietly made her way through the house, following their voices until she came to Harry's room. The door stood open. She stepped to the threshold and peered at Harry, silently asking his permission to enter. She'd never been in this room, never even seen inside it.

Harry gave her a little resigned nod, as if he really didn't want her inside, but there was nothing he could do about it now. She debated for a moment, but curiosity won out over protecting his privacy. She stepped inside.

Sirius was staring at the wall that the door was on, his head bobbing this way and that. Ginny came to stand right behind Harry, so close that she could feel the heat of him through his shirt. And she stared at the wall.

The entire thing was covered with papers, tacked haphazardly over the top of each other, strings connecting bits and pieces of it. Photographs-some of her-were scattered about. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to any of it, but Ginny knew it made sense somewhere in Harry's brain.

"This is what I've been doing," he explained to Ginny, although Sirius thought it was toward him. "I just...I just move things around, looking for the patterns, trying to see what we're missing. Trying to see where it means that Ginny has to...has to be a part of it all."

Sirius murmured something as he scanned one page of notes, but Ginny didn't catch it.

Harry looked over his shoulder at her. "And I keep thinking, if I can figure this out, if I can find the missing piece...she'll be safe. She'll be okay again." He fumbled behind him for her hand. Ginny took in a shuddering breath and rested her forehead against the back of his shoulder. The dizzying array on the wall was too much to look at, too much to comprehend.

And Harry. He'd been so focused. All the time she'd thought he was simply locking himself away to ignore her, or pouting at being locked up in the house with her, he'd been here, doing everything he could to protect her.

If that didn't say love, she wasn't sure what it said. And it was too soon. And it was too overwhelming. But it was real.

Sirius went on and on, but all that Harry could focus on was the weight of Ginny against his back. It was solid, reassuring. He wished, for the very first time, that he could read her mind, or maybe that she could read his. Normally, he understood that his mind was a dangerous, twisted place that nobody would be able to decipher. But right now, he thought Ginny might just be able to get a glimpse of how it all worked for him.

"Harry?"

He startled when Sirius called him, and looked back to his godfather, blinking and trying to let his mind catch up with what might have been said.

"Sorry, lost in thought."

"Hmm." Sirius peered at him with narrowed eyes. "I think I'll head out. I've gotten a few ideas from your board here." He hooked his thumb over his shoulder at the information that Harry had amassed. "I think I'll start checking those out."

"Sure." Harry looked away, pretending to look at the board, but all he could think about was Ginny's place in all of this. What did it mean? Why was she so deeply involved?

"You've done good work here, kiddo. I know it's not...ideal. But I think time away is good."

He nodded absently at Sirius, and then shook himself. He forced his hand to let go of Ginny's behind his back and take a step away from her toward the doorway, where Sirius was headed. They walked in silence toward the kitchen. Harry's mind was reeling, but he tried to focus on what Sirius might say next, to try and control his behavior so that he didn't hint that anything was different, or wrong.

It was probably too late, though. Sirius was perceptive enough to catch the change in Harry's behavior.

"How long did the Ministry say you needed to be away?"

"The healer suggested several weeks...maybe a month, maybe longer. Could be for awhile."

Sirius' brow wrinkled in thought. "Strange. I've never heard of them putting anyone on leave like that after an attack. You're healed right up, yeah?"

"Yeah," Harry answered right away. "It's just...this new protocol. Something to do with lowering stress for the Aurors." He felt no remorse for deceiving his godfather. Ginny's safety was worth every single lie he had to tell to achieve it.

Sirius turned to go, but stopped, staring at the kitchen counter. "Bananas. You hate bananas."

Harry's mind froze and he cast about for any excuse. He did hate bananas, but Ginny liked them, and so he'd bought some just for her. "I thought...I'd try them again. To see, you know…" He trailed off and stuffed his hands into his pockets, glancing down at the floor.

"Uh huh."

A deep breath in, and then the truth. "They're...they belong to someone else. She...she left them here." Sirius was not one to be fooled for long.

When he looked up, Sirius was grinning at him. "I knew there was something off about you."

"Don't make this a thing," Harry warned quietly. They stared at each other for a long moment before Sirius barked out a laugh.

"You dog."

"You would know."

"Yes. Yes, I would."

He slipped out the door and then Apparated when he got to the tree line.

Harry watched him go. He let out a long sigh and turned to return back to his bedroom, knowing Ginny hadn't left it yet.

She was standing closer to the wall now, looking up at all of it. He stared at the length of her neck, noticed a few strands of her hair that seemed to always escape the ponytails, plaits, and twists that she put them up into to rest against the creamy skin there.

"Is this…"

"You can ask."

She lifted a paper, looking at the one below it, and then another. "Is this the way your mind works?"

Harry looked at the wall and shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, unsure what she was getting at.

"Mostly. But...more three dimensional, I guess you'd say."

"Wow."

She hadn't looked at him yet and Harry wished she would. He needed to see her eyes to know what she was feeling-overwhelmed, reconsidering, horrified...what?

"And this is what you do when you come in here?"

"Mostly," he said again. "I take it down, rearrange it, look for holes or mistakes."

Ginny nodded slowly and finally looked at him. But he couldn't read what she was thinking. She came closer, slipping her fingers through his belt loops and tugging him to her. "How long would it take you to replicate all of this?"

He peered at the wall and then at her before sliding his hands around her back to hold them together. "A few hours. Why?"

"There's a wall right over there that I think we can work together to cover." She tipped her head toward the other blank wall in the room. "Maybe between the two of us…"

Harry pulled her closer to him, tucked her head under his chin and let out a happy sigh. "We can try that."

CHAPTER 9

Day 22

"It's there," said Ginny as she rubbed her forehead in thought. "We're just missing it."

Both Harry and Ginny had worked to replicate all of the documents on Harry's wall and then Ginny had set about reviewing them herself, before putting them up on the wall. Harry refused to help past a certain point, wanting to see what she would make of things.

"But I just don't have an analytical mind like you do," she said as she threw up her hands in exasperation. "I haven't even made it through everything." She gestured toward the pile of papers and photographs still resting on Harry's bed.

"We've been in here too long," he said. "We need some fresh air."

"It's raining." Ginny felt petulant and irritable. She honestly didn't know how he did this type of thing day after day. "And cold."

Harry glanced at the window, where rain lashed against the panes of glass. He quirked his lips to the side, as he sometimes did when he was thinking hard about something. "We could go somewhere."

"We can't," she whined. "It's not safe."

"You'd be with me," he said, half-heartedly. They'd already discussed leaving the safety of the little property, and decided that it wasn't worth the risk. But that didn't stop the desire from coming.

"I love being with you," she whispered as she came close. "But we both know…"

"I do know," he said, gathering her in. "I just…I want to take you on a proper date. That seems...right."

She couldn't help but smile at his shy admission. "We haven't really done this the normal way, have we?"

"Is there a normal way?" Harry peered down at her, one eyebrow quirking

"Well, normally, you'd meet my parents first-"

"Already did that."

"And then you'd ask me out."

"Skipped that step."

Ginny bit her lip to hold in a laugh. "And then we'd go out a few times-"

"Only a few?"

"-before I let you do anything like you've done to me already." She pinched his side lightly.

Harry kissed her, burying one hand in her hair. "I like our way better."

"Minus all the life-threatening stuff, yeah."

"Yeah."

They stood together wrapped in each other's arms while the looked at the wall.

"What is it we're missing?" Harry asked. "There's something…"

"An informant," Ginny said. It was just a guess, but some things weren't adding up to her about how Bellatrix was able to get into her flat through the wards as easily as she did. The idea had occurred to her in the hospital, but had been swept away with all of the ensuing chaos. "Someone had to tell them where I was, when I'd be vulnerable…"

Harry pulled back and looked down at her, his eyes dark and full of questions. "You think…"

"I don't know," Ginny huffed. "I just...I don't like the way that she got into my flat. There were wards-Ministry wards. She shouldn't have been able to bypass them, or even break them down. She wasn't a curse breaker, Bill said. It should have been impossible for her to get through them."

He looked away from her and Ginny swore she could see the wheels turning in his head. Without warning, he turned away from her and dove toward the stack of papers still on the bed, tossing them left and right in his haste to find what he was looking for.

"...Ministry wards...Ministry wards…"

Finally, he located it and jabbed his finger into the list. "Right here. The Ministry used curse breakers to construct those wards. Do you see anyone who seems familiar?"

Ginny took the paper from him and looked down the list. The few names were not ones she'd heard before. "None. I have no idea who these people are."

Harry nodded, as if he'd expected the answer. He began rifling through the paperwork again, making little irritated huffs and growls as he scanned the parchment. "It's not here…"

"What're you-"

"Each case file has a log of people who have worked on it-even down to the file clerks who keep the paperwork in order. Anytime anything is done on the case, the log should reflect it."

"Is it on your wall? Maybe we missed-"

"No," he said with finality. "I've been over it hundreds of times. It's not there. And I missed that. It's obvious." He gave a pained groan.

"Don't beat yourself up over it, Harry," said Ginny. "There are hundreds of documents here. And probably hundreds more that you've looked over and didn't feel necessary. Why would a simple file log be important?"

She tried not to be angry with him when he glared at her. "Don't you understand?! If there is an informant, someone who knows things they shouldn't know-about the wards, about your past-they would be in that log."

A lump rose in her throat at the mention of what had happened to her. "That's in there...the diary?"

"Yeah. It's relevant, isn't it?"

Ginny looked away, staring at his wall, where she could now see the edges of a photograph of herself as a young girl-the same year that she'd been possessed by Tom Riddle. "How many...how many people have seen this?" The thought that all of this information was out there, just floating around the Ministry where anyone with enough clearance could read it… She'd never considered this and it made her sick to her stomach.

Harry didn't answer her for a minute, and she looked back to see him lost in scanning another document, not paying attention to her impending breakdown.

"How many?!"

He looked up at her frantic tone, brow furrowing. "Ginny?"

"I can't...everyone has seen this? Everyone has read this? It's no wonder they believe all those stories-"

His arms came around her shoulders, pulling her to him, even though she resisted. "Nobody believes that rubbish, Ginny. And there are only a few of us that know, who have high enough clearance to read the entire file."

"Who?"

"Me," he said with a sigh. "Neville, Shacklebolt, Moody...some of the main Ministry people. I can request the log for that too, if you want."

Tears welled in her eyes and she pressed her face into his chest, finally letting the panic subside with a shaky breath in. "I just can't… I was twelve years old. Things like that shouldn't happen."

"No, they shouldn't. But they did," he said. "And nobody blames you, Ginny. We all know. I know."

They stood wrapped together as Ginny tried to collect herself.

"Have you ever heard of a horcrux?"

Ginny lifted her head at his hesitant question. "No."

"It's one of the darkest bits of magic there is," he continued. His eyes were dull, but it seemed as if the weight of the world was on his shoulders. "You commit murder to split your soul, and you store a piece of it inside an object...or a being."

Just the idea of it made her shudder. "Why…"

"When Voldemort killed my mum-"

A rolling wave of sickness nearly overcame her. "You don't mean-"

"I was a horcrux." He looked down at her, using the side of his thumb to wipe the wet tear trails from under her eyes. "I had a part of him inside me from the time I was one, until...until I killed him."

"Harry, I…"

"So, yeah, I know a little about that."

There wasn't anything more she could say, so she kissed him instead. The moment grew heated and Harry pushed her against the wall, crumpling parchment and photos behind them. He lifted her leg, hitching it over his hip in a move she'd now come to recognize as his complete surrender.

"I didn't-"

"Nobody knew," Harry said as he began to touch her everywhere. "Nobody knows."

She gave herself over to his need for connection, freely welcoming the comfort he passed back to her.

It was a pain in the arse to follow Harry's instructions before he Apparated to the small house where Harry and Ginny were hidden away. It wasn't as if someone could follow him through ten different jumps, and racing down this alleyway or that street. He had the feeling that this was just Harry's way of taking the piss-something he was not above doing. But Neville did it anyway, just in case.

He was in a horrible mood by the time he made it to the house, and completely unsure why Harry had demanded he come as soon as possible. They'd avoided meeting at the house as a precaution, even though Neville had wanted nothing more than to see Ginny again. He missed his friend and he wondered how she was coping with Harry's...peculiarities.

He knocked on the back door and then opened it, sticking his head into the kitchen. Something smelled wonderful! He took a deep breath in, savoring the aroma of some sort of stew simmering on the stove. It seemed as if Ginny was making herself at home, at least.

Neville opened his mouth to call out, but heard them talking in the living room. He closed the door and headed that direction, making sure the paperwork that Harry had requested was still secured safely in his inner robe pocket.

"Hey-oh. Ohhh." He turned his head, eyes going wide as he took in the scene. Ginny lay on the sofa, Harry pressing every inch of his body onto hers as he lay atop her. They were still clothed-thank Merlin!-but the position was a little more than compromising. And Harry's hand had been…. Nope. Not thinking about where it had been.

"Neville!" Ginny seemed pleased to see him, despite the situation.

"Sorry." Harry sat up and adjusted his trousers (something Neville did _not_ need to see.) "Didn't know when to expect you, exactly."

"We just got carried away." Ginny turned slightly and fixed something beneath her shirt. Neville pretended that he didn't see that either.

"Soooo, this is new."

They both laughed and Neville silently wished he could curse them both. Although, a flash of something warm erupted inside him, leaving him feeling a bit giddy.

It was probably best if they ignored the hippogriff in the room, Neville decided. "I brought the files you asked for. Not sure how they'll help, but here they are, nonetheless."

"Stay for dinner, Neville," Ginny said. She walked past him and let her fingers slide up his arm, giving it a little friendly squeeze. "I promise we'll contain ourselves while you're here."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," he said. She laughed, but Harry just took the files from him and began turning pages, searching for something.

"Come on," said Ginny. "Give him a few minutes to obsess, and then we'll get something out of him."

Neville followed her to the kitchen with a glance over his shoulder at Harry to see if he would protest. "Seriously," he said, "when did this become a thing?"

"Like you haven't been trying to get us together for years," said Ginny with a knowing little look.

"Date, yes. _That_ ," he said, hooking a thumb toward the doorway, "I don't need to know anything about."

Ginny smirked and began ladling up stew into bowls. "You sound like you could use a little of _that_ yourself."

"Ginny."

"Neville."

He couldn't help the smile that broke out at her cheekiness. He'd been worried that Ginny's spirit may be broken, or at least bruised, by being locked away here. Now, it appeared that his worries were unfounded. She was the same old Ginny, spicy and full of sass.

"You're not going to tell me?"

"You don't want details, remember?"

He huffed and sank down into one of the kitchen chairs, shucking his Ministry robes the moment she placed a steaming bowl of heaven in front of him. "I don't need details," he mumbled through a mouthful. "But I'd like to know if I need to die defending your honor."

Ginny barked out a laugh as she sat across from him. "Have I ever needed your help in that department?"

"No, but-"

"I'm good, Nev. I promise."

He nodded and contemplated the situation. "Do I need to defend his honor, then?"

Ginny just grinned, as if she were completely pleased at the idea. "You can ask him, if you'd like."

"Ask me what?"

Harry entered the room, gave a quick kiss to the top of Ginny's head, and sat down next to her, digging into his own bowl of stew.

"If I seduced you."

Neville nearly swallowed a piece of carrot. "That's not-"

"Absolutely. I've been horribly corrupted."

Ginny opened her mouth to reply, but Neville assumed things were going to get just a bit more sticky for him if this continued, so he cleared his throat.

"Why am I here?" he asked. "Not that dinner isn't fabulous, but…"

"We have a theory."

"An informant," Ginny said. "In the Ministry."

"Someone's been passing information. How else could Bellatrix get past the wards on Ginny's flat, past the Harpies security, and two Aurors?"

"One," Neville corrected. "I was with you at the time, if you remember."

"Sloper," Harry grumbled. "Bloody incompetent, if you ask me."

"And the raids that you've been doing," said Ginny. "You haven't found anything. Everytime you go, there's nothing there, or they've just escaped."

"It has to be an informant."

Neville watched the back and forth between Harry and Ginny. He found it interesting that their words tumbled seamlessly out, ideas bouncing back and forth.

"You should have been a bloody Auror," he said as he pointed toward Ginny. "Why didn't we see it before?"

Harry thought about that for a minute before shrugging. "Trees instead of the forest," he said. "We were too focused on finding something outside, not looking inside."

Neville scowled. "And you think it'll be in the file?"

"Think about it," Harry said. "The log."

The log. Neville thought back to the file and tried to remember even seeing the log. "I don't-"

"Everyone who accesses the file is logged, right?" asked Ginny. "If that's so, then we look for someone being where they shouldn't have been."

Harry's arm raised and the file flew into his hand. "Look at the log. What looks out of place?"

Neville pulled the file to him and nudged his empty bowl out of the way. "They would have to have clearance to even look at this, you know. Magically, I mean. If you don't have it, you can't even see the file."

"There are ways around that," Harry said. "We all know there are ways to fool magic."

Rather than pursue the idea into some philosophical debate that he would lose, Neville looked down at the log. He'd honestly never thought of looking at it before. "Everything looks right." There were no names that he didn't recognize, nobody who shouldn't have seen what was sealed inside.

"Look again," Harry said, "at the dates, this time."

Running a finger down the left column, Neville tried to imagine the dates as Harry might-flying off the page and landing on some imaginary calendar, giving it all perspective and connection.

"There's some overlap," he said, thoughtfully. "But that's to be expected on a very busy case."

"August 3rd."

He looked up at Harry, who was staring at him, as if he could telepathically pass whatever thought was in his head into Neville's.

"Don't make people feel stupid because their minds don't work like yours does, Dear," Ginny said with a pat to Harry's arm. "Just explain."

Surprisingly, Harry didn't even bristle at Ginny's gentle correction. "Where were you on August 3rd, Neville?"

He cast his mind back, trying to think where he might have been. "I was… Well…"

"I had a game," Ginny said. "We played Appleby. It was a home game. Beat them soundly, too."

He smirked at Ginny's proud proclamation, and tried to think. He wasn't at that game, but remembered flooing Ginny later to hear the highlights. "I…"

"I was in Ireland," said Harry, "tracking down a lead from Remus about some illegal potions dealers."

It came to him in a flash. He remembered the day clearly. "And I was home. I'd been bit two days before by that Acromantula while we were raiding the shop in Diagon Alley…my hand was the size of Hagrid's. I wasn't at the Ministry." He looked down again to see his name clearly displayed as checking out the file on that day for several hours and even making copies of some of the most sensitive material.

"Clearly, someone fooled the log, or had someone change it for them."

"But without clearance…" The idea was horrific. Someone-anyone, really-could bypass the security systems at the Ministry and find a way to access classified information.

"Now you see where we have a problem."

"An informant inside the Ministry," said Ginny. "They'd have to be, to be familiar with Ministry procedures and be skilled enough to hide their tracks this way."

The idea made Neville sick to his stomach.

"An Auror, or higher up," said Harry. He pushed away his own bowl and leaned back, brow furrowed in contemplation. "Any thoughts about who?"

Neville's mind raced, trying to place who it might be. All of the Aurors had worked shoulder to shoulder on this case, and he just couldn't understand how one of them would have been willing to not only betray them, but place the entire Wizarding World at risk by helping Death Eaters. Their faces came to him, flashing one at a time as he mentally weighed the odds.

"You already know, don't you?" Ginny asked Harry, a sort of horrified realization settling on her face.

"I suspect."

"He knows," Neville said. "You don't suspect. You deduce. Bloody Sherlock Holmes."

But Harry didn't smirk the way he normally did when Neville called him that. Instead, he looked grave, deeply disturbed. He reached over and grasped Ginny's hand, as if it were a lifeline. The change in him was remarkable. Neville had never seen him this focused and calm. And yet, there was a deep fire raging just below the surface, he'd bet. That core of steel that he'd always admired in Harry was getting red hot.

"And the other file that you had me bring? How does that-"

"Duty roster," said Harry. "It shows who was assigned to each and every shift for the past six months. Guess who has been on shift before every single raid, every single time we've gone out and found nothing?"

"Shit." It came to Neville in a flash. "Shit."

Harry's eyebrow rose and Neville knew he had finally landed on the right person. He felt sick, pale and shaky. "How…"

"All of it fits," said Harry. "He's smarter than we thought. And stupider than he should have been."

"But the file…"

"Can be tricked," Harry repeated. "Polyjuice, Imperious, magical masking...who knows. It doesn't really matter how he did it, not right now, anyway. We need to stop him."

Ginny made a noise in the back of her throat like an angry cat. "Who? Who are you talking about?"

Neville sighed and gave one last look to Harry. "Jack Sloper."

Harry stood abruptly and stalked toward the door, snatching his Ministry robes off the hook. He didn't even look back as he Apparated straight out.

Both Neville and Ginny stared at the spot where he had been.

"Go after him, please. He's of no use to me locked up in Azkaban."

"Right." Neville stood, although his first inclination was to let Harry have a few minutes with Sloper before he intervened. Then again, Harry would kill him.

Harry barely saw anything when he arrived at the Ministry. He followed the winding corridors to the lifts and punched the button for Level 2. His ears were full of the rushing of his own blood and the pounding of his own heart. He ignored everyone who greeted him, or scurried out of his way with wide eyes.

Jack Bloody Sloper.

He'd always disliked the man, never really trusted him as an Auror. But he couldn't believe… The pieces weren't adding up completely, but Harry decided he could wait to see the big picture after he hung Sloper from the ceiling.

It was bad enough that Sloper had been putting the entire Auror squad in peril every time they went on a raid, but then he'd leaked information about Ginny and opened the way for the attacks on her. That was unforgivable in Harry's eyes.

His march through Auror Headquarters drew a few stares, but nobody dared approach him as he scanned the offices for the man he was looking for.

"Potter."

Kingsley Shacklebolt approached with a hesitant smile. "Didn't think we'd see you for at least a few more-"

"I need to talk to Sloper."

Eyebrows rose slowly at Harry's barked demand. "Anything I can help with?"

A flippant answer nearly escaped Harry's mouth, but he bit it back, knowing that Kingsley would put a stop to anything Harry was planning if he knew what was happening.

"Question about some notes he made on the case. His handwriting is shite."

The excuse sounded flimsy to Harry and he didn't wait around to hear Kingsley's reply. He'd spotted Sloper chatting up one of the secretaries, leaning on her desk and speaking quietly to her.

"Sloper!"

Harry had to admit, the look of terror that flashed in those dull-brown eyes was enjoyable as Harry advanced on him, but the man schooled his features quickly. Harry doubted anyone else would have seen the reaction for more than just surprise at seeing Harry again.

"Potter." The secretary looked back and forth between the men and quicky excused herself. "What can I do for you?"

Jaw clenching, Harry clapped his arm around Sloper's shoulders, trying to appear friendly. His wand dug into Jack's ribs. "We need to have a little talk." Harry guided them into an empty office, not caring who it belonged to, and closed the door.

"What the hell, Potter!" Sloper rubbed his side and pulled away, glaring at Harry. Before he could continue, Harry's fist connected with his nose.

"What do you get out of it?" Harry asked. "Money? Power? Some sort of sick pleasure at being a traitor?"

Sloper's nose was gushing blood and he tried to staunch the flow with his hand. Deep crimson dripped out from between his fingers and onto his Auror robes.

"You've sold your last secret," said Harry. "You're going to Azkaban."

The door handle rattled, but Harry wouldn't look away from Sloper.

"Shit!" Neville burst into the room and slammed the door before the prying eyes of the entire office saw the mess Harry had made of the Auror. "Glad I made it before you gutted him."

"That was next on my agenda," Harry said flippantly.

"He's crazy!" Sloper mumbled through his hand. "I'm going to charge him with assault! He's the one going to Azkaban."

But Neville just glared at him. "Oh, shut up! You're lucky I got here in time." He sent a series of spells at Sloper, fixing his nose, sealing his lips, and binding him to a chair that sat in the corner.

Harry's eyebrows rose. "Silent casting. Impressive."

Neville rolled his eyes. "I've been around you for three years, Harry. I've picked up a few things."

"So, what are we going to do?" Harry asked as he turned his attention back to Sloper. "Veritaserum?"

"We could. Or we could just hand him over to Moody and you could get back to where you're supposed to be, protecting your girlfriend."

Harry quirked an eyebrow. "Who is just fine where she's at."

"Probably," said Neville. "But why don't you let me handle this? I can be a bit more impartial than you can."

"Really?" Harry asked. "He put the entire department at risk. And Ginny...he sold her out. He leaked…" Words failed him when he thought about the things that Sloper had told the Death Eaters about Ginny's past. Things that had put her in grave danger. If they'd gotten her, they would have killed her to try and resurrect an evil being.

"I know."

"You really think you can be impartial?"

"I have to be," said Neville. "Because you can't be."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but he knew Neville was right. He couldn't have an open mind about this because...because he was in love with Ginny.

"You find out why he did this. You find out who's behind this. And then you make them pay."

"I promise."

CHAPTER 10

Day 30

Harry was lounging on the sofa, staring up at the ceiling, no doubt pondering something deep and mysterious. Ginny watched him with appreciation, noting the little nuances that his face went through as he processed thoughts.

"Galleon for what's on your mind," she murmured as she spun around on the floor next to him and rested her crossed arms on the cushion next to him.

"Not worth that much," he said, glancing down at her with a half-smile. "Just thinking about this." He tapped his fingers on the folded Daily Prophet which rested on his stomach. He'd just read the article aloud to her, and even though they'd known the details of the arrests made ever since Neville had shown up at the house at three in the morning a few days ago, it was interesting to see the press's side of things.

"At least they gave Neville credit for breaking the case."

"He did, in a way," said Harry.

"With your help."

"And yours."

She sighed and reached up to wind their hands together. "He deserves the credit."

"I don't mind him having it, trust me. I don't want my photo in the papers ever again."

"Bound to happen, though," Ginny said. "After all, you're sleeping with a celebrity."

Harry laughed softly and tossed the paper over the back of the sofa before shifting to make room for her next to him on the cushions. Ginny climbed up and curled into him, resting her back against his chest.

"When do you think-"

"I'll break the charm anytime you're ready."

She glanced back over her shoulder. "I thought…"

"What?"

She gave a little huff of annoyance. "I thought that since you hadn't said anything that you were still worried about there being danger."

"Not at all," he said. "I've enjoyed keeping you to myself."

Ginny squawked and tried to reach back to pinch him on the side, but Harry dodged her fingers and wrapped her even tighter in his embrace.

"Besides," he whispered. "You never asked me to."

Rolling her eyes, Ginny relaxed into his arms again. "I'm ready," she said. "I need to see my family. And I need to get training, again."

"The season's over."

She scowled at the reminder of the losses that the Harpies had taken to finish out their season. One of the other starting Chasers had been injured and the reserves just weren't up to filling two vacancies.

"There's always next year," she said with a sigh.

They lapsed into silence for a long time until Ginny rolled in his embrace, scooting up so that she could look him in the eyes.

"Are you nervous about meeting my family?"

"I've already met them," he said.

"Yes, but not in the best circumstances. You were rather...rude."

Harry's eyes went wide. "I was not!"

She laughed. "Were too. You kept staring at me the whole time, and you weren't exactly cordial."

"I was there in an official capacity," he sputtered. "What would you have me do, have tea and talk about the weather?"

Ginny just laughed and kissed his chin. "They'll love you...when they get to know you."

"Maybe," he said, sounding doubtful. "But it's okay if they don't. As long as you do."

Neither of them had said the words, but had danced around them, dropping hints instead.

"You know I do," she said. His eyes searched hers. "Love you, I mean." She finished in a whisper.

"I know."

She waited for him to say more, but then rolled her eyes at his smirk. He wouldn't say it just because she had, but she was pretty sure of his feelings.

"Fine."

"Fine."

"It's really you who should be nervous," he said. "You have to meet Sirius. And try not to flash him this time."

Ginny gasped and dug her fingers into his side, loving that he squirmed way from the tickle. "I did not!"

"Did so."

"He couldn't see me, anyway. And I did not flash him. I flashed you."

Harry laughed and leaned forward to press a kiss to her nose. "It was brilliant."

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

Ginny tucked her finger into the buttons on his shirt, brushing the warm skin on his chest. "You do love me, don't you?"

"Of course, I do."

Warmth bloomed in her chest and she rested her forehead against his, closing her eyes in contentment. "Good."

Neville had taken to wearing charms whenever he was out in public. He wasn't sure who had released the story to the press that he was the hero who had taken down four entire cells of Death Eaters, but it was wreaking havoc on his life at the moment. It was likely Harry, who seemed to get more than a little amusement at seeing his friend duck in and out of shops in Diagon Alley just to pick up necessary supplies. And if he hadn't been so thrilled with Harry and Ginny's new relationship, he might have hexed Harry. But he just couldn't bring himself to do it when he saw how happy they both were.

Things were far from calm. The evidence gathering had lasted for weeks and the WIzengamot had been eager to start the trials so that they could once and for all put this mess behind them.

Neville had testified against Jack Sloper just yesterday. It wasn't easy, knowing the entire story behind the betrayal, but Jack had known what he was doing and he had made his choices. He'd chosen to seek respect and power from outside the Ministry, where he felt his contributions had been overlooked. He wasn't necessarily aligned with the agenda of the Death Eaters, but he certainly wasn't loyal to the Ministry, either. In the end, it had gotten him a sentence of five years in Azkaban.

Harry deemed it far too light a sentence, and had scowled through the entire hearing. Ginny, though, had been more pensive and eventually declared that she was satisfied enough with the outcome. Neville was torn, though. He'd trusted Sloper enough to leave him alone with Ginny, and that betrayal cut deep. In the end, however, he supposed there wasn't much he could do. And at least the worst offenders were off the streets, being dealt with.

He glanced around the Alley once more before ducking into number 93. The garish colors and chaos inside were rather soothing, he thought.

"'Lo, Neville" George said from behind the cash register.

"How did you know-"

But George only winked and continued to help a group of young Hogwarts-aged boys ring up their purchases.

Neville wound through the cramped aisles and into the back room, where Ron was absently using his wand to direct a large spoon stirring something putridly green that simmered in a cauldron.

"No customers back here!" Ron called out.

Laughing, Neville removed his charms.

"Oh! Sorry, Nev, I didn't realize-"

"It's fine. One day, I hope I can stop wearing them."

Ron grinned. "Stop being a hero, then, and maybe you can."

"Bloody Harry," Neville grumbled under his breath. He leaned closer to the cauldron, but then quickly jumped back as a large bubble formed and popped, sending green goop in his direction. "How's business?"

Ron shrugged a shoulder and quickly began adding ingredients to the mixture. "Better now that people aren't so worried about going out."

"That's good." He found it amusing that even though Ron had hated Potions in school, he was the one who usually brewed them at the shop. It seemed strange where they had all ended up in life, when he looked back at where they had started. "Heard you had a family dinner earlier this week. How did it go?"

Ron's forehead wrinkled in thought. "Didn't Ginny tell you? Or Harry? I would have figured…"

"They did," said Neville, "but I wondered how _you_ thought it went."

"Hermione sure loves him," Ron said, a bit petulantly.

"But not you?" Neville tried hard not to smile, but it wasn't easy. Harry could confound the most genial people in the best of times. No doubt he'd put forward his best effort with the Weasleys.

"I just can't seem to make heads or tails of the bloke, to be honest. I mean, I'm glad Ginny likes him, but…"

"You'll warm up to him," said Neville. "He takes some getting used to."

"I'll say. Still, Mum and Dad like him."

Neville nodded. "I imagine they would. He saved her life, you know."

Ron looked up at him, considering that. "I guess he did."

"Multiple times. And this whole case would have been a disaster if he hadn't figured it out."

"But I thought… The paper said…"

Neville shook his head. "Harry would never take credit. He's probably the source who told them I did it, anyway. That would amuse him. But it was really him, and Ginny, to an extent, who figured it out. I just did the easy work."

Ron sighed and shook his head. "I'm not sure I'll ever figure him out."

"You've got time," said Neville. "It doesn't appear that he's going anywhere anytime soon, if your sister has anything to say about it."

"Come on," Ron said finally. "I'll get you some of George's new invention-Concealment Chews. They give you five full minutes of invisibility. But don't eat too many. We haven't worked out all of the side effects. I got the nastiest rash on my… Well, just don't eat too many." He slapped Neville on the shoulder and directed him to a box of brightly wrapped sweets in various colors of foil.

"Bloody Harry."

The End


End file.
